


The Sin Draws The Flesh

by jarbaje



Series: The Years We Have [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Canon What Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Hosea is best dad, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Mostly Everyone Lives, Slow Burn, Smut, Soft cowboys, Trans Male Character, eventual happy ranch AU, eventual smut has become actual smut, in which Kieran gets the recovery I wish I had, no TB, specific trigger warnings in chapter summaries, yes I'm projecting this is cheaper than therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-06-27 13:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarbaje/pseuds/jarbaje
Summary: Arthur assumed he would die awful and bloody. Accepted he lived on borrowed time and weren't one to plan for any kind of future.The way Dutch is running the gang, though? And the things that "I ain't no O'Driscoll" Kieran Duffy says, the things he tries to convince Arthur of?Well, maybe there's a future worth planning for, somewhere. Maybe Arthur should have a little faith in something other than the van der Linde gang.





	1. and then we move along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at any kind of shippy fic. It is also the first time I have tried my hand at slow burn. It's also the first big project I've done in a loooooong time so I make no promises.
> 
> Trigger warnings: referenced sexual assault, miscarriage, referenced abuse, transphobia

_ Colter _

The mountains howled around them, angry and murderous. The law would’ve at least given them a quick death, hangin’ would kill him quicker than this thick bitter  _ cold _ . Just wanted to get back to Colter after that mess of a shootout. 

They lost daylight fast as sun met mountain. Snow was picking up again, a sharp crystalline fog that cut through his coat and his gloves and threatened to knock his hat flying. Least none of ‘em were injured.

“Alright fellers, dig in!” Dutch hollered over his shoulder.

Arthur huddled deeper into his coat. Weren’t sure he still had a nose attached to his face. Fingers numb inside his gloves and breath rattling over his teeth. He’d seen a man’s teeth explode, years ago when they were snowed in near the northern border, when they had fewer mouths to feed and a lot less law on their tails.

Dutch slowed a bit, looked over his shoulder at Arthur, pointed into the distance. “Hey! Wasn’t that feller at the camp, with Colm?”

Arthur squinted through the haze of mounting blizzard at the vague horse shape. Spurred his horse into as fast a pace as he could manage in the snow. “Leave him to me!” 

Dutch said something to Arthur as he flew past, but the wind snatched it up and then he was splashing across the stream after the O’Driscoll.

The man glanced at Arthur. Eyes so wide Arthur could see the frantic whites of ‘em, like a panicked horse.

“Just leave me be!”

Arthur barked a mirthless laugh, pushed his horse to its limits. The beast snorted beneath him, sides heaving. The O’Driscoll cut up the hill and around a sharp corner—Arthur nearly lost him, not quite in sync with the new horse. Would’ve been able to tear around the corner no problem if he still had Bodicea. . .

“The longer I have to chase you, the angrier I’m gonna get!”

The O’Driscoll chanced another look over his shoulder, but Arthur had already caught up and was swinging his lasso towards him. Got him around the shoulders and Arthur  _ yanked.  _ The O’Driscoll went down with a yell, Arthur had to scramble off his horse to avoid trampling the idiot. The writhing, wriggling idiot with big doe eyes and a nose ruddy from the cold. Fought hard against the rope but Arthur jerked it tighter.

“The hell did I do?”

Arthur yanked the rope around the man’s ankles, wrenched his arms behind his back in a rough hogtie. “You’re comin’ with me.”

The O’Driscoll whimpered, tried to get at Arthur with pleading eyes. Arthur was too focused on keeping the wind and snow out of his face.

“Just let me go, please.”

Arthur hauled the man up with a grunt. Arthur’s horse had spooked a ways back down the track. He did not appreciate having to trudge through knee-deep snow with a squirming body on his shoulder. He was not gentle when he dumped the man across the back of his horse and secured him to the saddle. Arthur swung up in front of him and urged the horse on with a loud  _ yah! _

The storm increased as they rode. Couldn’t be more than twenty minutes behind the rest of the gang, but the tracks from five horses were nearly lost beneath fresh powder. The noise of the wind competed with the O’Driscoll’s pleas for Arthur to slow down.

“You got a name, boy?”

“Kieran. Duffy.” His voice shook, bounced along as he was. Arthur pushed his horse harder. Was not about to risk his hide dying to a storm for one lousy O’Driscoll.

“Well, I ain’t gonna lie to you, today’s a  _ real _ bad day for you, Kieran Duffy.”

Another whimper. “Please, mister, could you slow down?”

Arthur landed a backhand to the O’Driscoll’s face. “Save your breath for screaming.”

They left him  _ just  _ covered not to freeze to death before they could get any information out of him. Arthur thought the O’Driscoll looked ready to talk soon as Dutch gave his little speech, but the kid had buttoned right up and shrunk into himself.

Arthur found him about as threatening as a lamb. Had them scared-wide eyes of someone who’s had a lot of violence directed at them and is scared of the next blow, flinching whenever anyone so much as raised a hand to adjust a hat.

Something in the way he begged dug at Arthur. The slimmest wedge in a small crack somewhere behind his heart he thought he’d covered long ago. There was not much space for sympathy in his way of life and he was not about to spare any for some  _ goddamn O’Driscoll _ . But Arthur had found an old blanket, tossed in the corner of the main cabin, that no one wanted to use on account of it smelling of mildew and piss. Might as well do himself a favor and get the nasty thing out of his temporary lodging, and it would serve the dual purpose of keeping the O’Driscoll alive a little longer.

Arthur waited for everyone else to be asleep, bundled up and huddled together trying to outlive the blizzard, before slinking out to where they were keeping the O’Driscoll.

Curled in on himself as well as he could being tied up. Shivered hard and his teeth chattered loud, the bone-on-bone sound bouncing off the rotten wood of the barn.

Arthur cleared his throat. The O’Driscoll jerked like Arthur’d dumped snow down his shirt.

Arthur tossed the ratty moth-eaten blanket over the O’Driscoll. A good wash and it might see some new life. 

It landed mostly on him. He adjusted it with his teeth until it was tucked nearly up to his chin.

“T-thanks, mister.”

“Wanted it out of my room. Stinks of piss.” Made his way back out of the barn. Paused in the crooked doorframe. “Not a word, O’Driscoll.” 

\+ + - + +

_ Horseshoe Overlook _

  
  


Arthur knew he hadn’t been asleep long, his eyes stung and his head hurt too much. Hadn’t slept in near two days, rolled back into camp in the hours between night and morning. Seemed to be an endless string of errands now that they were out of the snow and the cold.

Multiple voices shouting from the edge of camp wasn’t going to let him keep sleeping, though, and he rolled off his cot without even putting on his shoes.

The commotion hadn’t woken anyone else, it appeared. None of the fires were going. Sky still dark.

There was something wrong with the O’Driscoll.

They’d had him tied to a tree for almost a week. He’d begged for water, the first few days, but fell silent by the fourth. Someone had been sneaking him water, since he hadn’t dropped dead yet. But the lack of food showed in the dark shadows below his eyes, the hollowed-out cheeks. The quivering. 

Despite the tremble in his legs, he’d stayed standing. Until tonight.

Arthur followed the voices to the far side of camp, where they were keeping the O’Driscoll tied up. He was slumped on the ground in a heap, Hosea, Bill, and Charles around him. 

“I  _ swear _ I ain’t touched him!”

“He’s covered in blood and you were threatening him with gelding tongs! Who else would’ve done it?” Hosea glared at Bill, who smelled drunk as a skunk and looked like he hadn’t gone to bed yet. Shirt untucked and suspenders hanging loose.

“I. Ain’t.  _ Touched. _ Him.” Bill lurched towards Hosea and the O’Driscoll; Charles came between them, not touching, but a physical barrier to keep Bill back.

“What in the  _ hell _ is all this yelling about?”

Dutch appeared at Arthur’s shoulder, stalking towards the fallen O’Driscoll. Hosea crouched next to him—now that Arthur got a good look, he could see the blood, soaked into his pants. Small puddle of it on the ground beneath him, too.

“I do believe Bill has gone against your orders and maimed the poor boy.”

Dutch glanced at Arthur briefly; Arthur shrugged and shook his head. The O’Driscoll hadn’t said a word during the whole exchange, hadn’t even moved, really. Just curled in on himself, pale and shivering.

“Mr. Smith, would you please show Mr. Williamson to his bedroll.”

Charles steered Bill for his bedroll, hand on his shoulder. Bill tried to shrug out from under it but Charles held firm. Finally wrenched himself free and tripped over his own feet onto his bedroll. Charles rolled his eyes and returned to his position on watch.

“Mind telling us what happened?” Dutch addressed the O’Driscoll. Only answer he got was a faint whimper. Dutch loomed. 

Hosea was still trying to get the boy to look at him. “We need to figure out where the blood is coming from.” Hosea tried to peel the O’Driscoll’s shirt open, but he flinched as if struck, curled tighter in on himself.

Dutch sighed. “Get him in a tent and looked over. Arthur, wake Miss Grimshaw and the Reverend, would you?”

Arthur grumbled about not getting any sleep himself but complied. Dutch returned to his tent without another word.

Grimshaw was as cranky as to be expected, once she figured out Arthur weren’t the one who needed help. Told him not to waste his time with Swanson, if Bill really had gone after the poor boy’s balls it would be a simple enough fix.

Arthur had to haul the shaking O’Driscoll off the ground. Ragdolled deadweight. Arthur could feel how cold the O’Driscoll was through his tattered shirt. Blood had cooled against his trousers but there were fresh warm patches on Arthur’s jacket when he laid the O’Driscoll out on the cot. He stomped out without a word. Too awake, now, from all the commotion to try going to bed so he decided to post up at the edge of the overlook and smoke til the sun came up.

\+ + - + +

Hosea emerged from the tent with a grim expression some hours after dawn. Arthur had relocated to the table by the chuck wagon to tuck into breakfast. Dutch was talking at him about something or other, Arthur couldn’t really focus on what. Staying up all night and hardly sleeping for two days had caught up with him and most thought went into keeping food in his mouth.

“You figure out what happened?” Dutch asked after taking a long draw on his cigar.

Hosea beelined for the coffee pot. A few folk had asked where the O’Driscoll went but didn’t press further when Arthur hooked a thumb at the medical tent. Kept to their chores after that.

Hosea’s hands shook as he poured the coffee. Eyes staring out into the middle distance as he blew on the steaming cup. A small part of Arthur hoped things hadn’t gone south, because he’d be the one asked to deal with it, and he just wanted to go to  _ bed _ .

“Good news is we managed to stop the bleeding.”

Arthur glanced back at the tent, but with the flaps down all he could see was a vague outline of Miss Grimshaw bent over the cot. Hosea stared at nothing.

“Well, where the hell did all that blood come from?” Impatience colored Dutch’s tone.

Hosea sighed, both hands around the mug. The coffee hovered near his face as if he could use it as a shield. “It—it appears he has suffered a miscarriage.”

Arthur was sure he didn’t hear that right. “He what.”

Dutch choked on his most recent puff. “So he’s a she?”

“No, he’s  _ he _ . Not that it would be any of our business, under normal circumstances.”

“How did we not notice this?”

Hosea turned to Dutch. The lines of his face seemed deeper. Arthur hadn’t seen him so rattled in a while. “Well, Dutch, it’s not really our policy to go around checking in people’s pants, now is it?” Hosea snapped back, tossed his coffee in the fire. “And before you go off on Bill, from what the poor boy managed to tell us, he was . . . like  _ that  _ when we found him.”

Arthur thought back to the O’Driscoll, hogtied over the back of his horse, asking him to  _ please go slower mister, it hurts _ . “Any idea what caused it?” Arthur pointedly kept his eyes on his breakfast.

Hosea held his hands over the fire to warm them, rubbed at his neck, rolled his shoulders. “Starving and beating him probably didn’t help.”

Dutch recovered from his coughing fit with a long draw on his cigar. “It’s for the best, anyways. Be hard to hide from the law with an O’Driscoll bastard running around.” 

“Have a little compassion, Dutch, it’s not like he  _ wanted _ —”

Dutch glared at Hosea over his shoulder. “She’s an O’Driscoll, it doesn’t matter what she  _ wants _ . Arthur, if she’s not dead by tomorrow morning, try to get her to tell us  _ something _ useful.”

Arthur looked at Hosea as Dutch stalked back over to his tent. Hosea released a long sigh that quickly turned into a cough. Made his way to sit opposite Arthur. Arthur offered him his own cup of coffee; Hosea took it with thanks, drank slow.

“Just can’t seem to catch a break, can we?” 

Hosea sighed into the coffee. “No, it certainly doesn’t feel like.”

Arthur did not remember falling asleep around the back of the medical tent, but that was where he woke sometime around dusk. Hauled himself to his feet with a barely-suppressed groan. Tired as he’d been, sleeping on the ground sat half upright hadn’t done him many favors. 

Decided to see what chow he could snag from Pearson when Miss Grimshaw intercepted him.

“Mister Morgan, what were you doing sleeping in the dirt like that when the girls went to all the trouble of setting up a proper bed for you?”

“ ‘m sorry, Miss Grimshaw, it was not my intention.”

“Mhm, I bet it wasn’t. Here,” she thrust a bowl of broth and a jug of water at him. “Go make yourself useful and take these to Mister Duffy.”

“Why me?”

“You spent all day sleeping, that’s why you. Now go on.” She shooed him away with a flap of her hands.

Arthur grumbled his way to the tent. Shouldered the flap open.

A lamp had been left dimmed next to the cot. Duffy was a vague lump on the cot under several blankets. Near as pale as the Grizzlies they’d so recently left behind. The cot squeaked as he shook.

“Brought you dinner.” Arthur set the broth and water on the same table as the lamp, dropped onto the stool next to the cot. Poured some water into a cup and encouraged the man to sit. “I’m not playing nursemaid but Grimshaw will tan my hide if you don’t finish all this.”

He winced as he sat up. Stayed hunched, arms folded over his middle. Wouldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes. Almost missed the cup Arthur held out to him. Sipped in silence. Pearson shouted a last call for dinner. Arthur turned up the lamp as the tent darkened through sunset.

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly. “Explains why you were so scared of them tongs.” Arthur hadn’t seen much when Bill went after him; Duffy’s shirt was long enough to cover everything. They had all just assumed—

The cup slipped from his unsteady grip, spilled water down one leg of Arthur’s pants. Duffy stammered out apologies, but Arthur 77assured him it weren’t a big deal.

Quiet slithered between them. Low voices out by the scout fire, probably Hosea and Susan discussing the whole situation. Loud snores from several areas of camp. An owl’s screech, far off.

Arthur cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

A long pause, so long he thought Kieran must have fallen asleep. “I didn’t want it. I didn’t want any of them.” He sighed, shifted beneath the blankets with an ill-concealed whimper. “Colm. . . Colm’s a bad man.”

“So. . . you got kids somewhere?” Arthur’s comfort with this conversation had fled some sentences ago but something made him stay on that stool. Hoped maybe Duffy would actually  _ look _ at him when he spoke, instead of sitting there pasty and shaking and sad.

“No. Colm . . . always took care of it. B-before. Before.”

Arthur stood abruptly, turned his back to Kieran. “Get some sleep, O’Driscoll. No good to us if you’re dead.”


	2. once the storm calms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, some liberties have been taken with the plot...let's all pretend the debt collection requests never happened.
> 
> I've never attempted slow burn but I think this turned into it? 
> 
> as always, there's some transphobic language/attitudes

_ Horseshoe Overlook _

Arthur wasn’t in camp much. Kept getting sent out after one thing or another, getting sidetracked on the way back. Small wonder no one asked where he was, always doing favors for strangers. Supposed since he came back with money and food and supplies no one minded much. Hoped he could sneak away for a while, had his eye on a new horse but needed some more funds first. The Tennessee walker they’d picked up at the Adler place had served him well, but the stallion was a bit too skittish around guns. Took off into the plains when Arthur stopped to have a friendly shooting contest. Arthur had not enjoyed spending the rest of the hot afternoon chasing after him.

Arthur dismounted, automatically held out a sugar cube to the horse. Weren’t good around guns but he was still a good horse, maybe Arthur ought to keep him in camp—

“Morning, Arthur,” Duffy called to him from where he was brushing down Boaz. All the horses, ‘cept The Count, seemed real sweet on him. Come to think of it, Arthur pretty much only ever saw him around the horses. Where the hell was he sleeping? Hosea had insisted Duffy not be tied up again. Found him a bedroll somewhere, Arthur assumed; he’d had only been in the tent for a few days before Dutch started yelling about him being a prisoner and not some sort of special guest.

“You sure do like them horses.” He’d been riding all day hoping to scrounge up something for dinner, got a lucky shot at a buck drinking from the river.

“Keeps me busy.”

Something in the way Duffy looked after the horses tugged at Arthur. Was always quick to brush ‘em when they got rode hard, talked to them real soft when he thought he was alone. Arthur’d caught him speaking to Branwen as if she were an old friend as he braided and unbraided the same section of her mane. 

_ Ain’t so bad, here. Nicer than Colm ever was and there’s plenty to eat.  _

Arthur wondered what kind of rations Duffy was used to. The first week or so they’d been at the Overlook, there was barely enough for one batch of stew and people were cutting their share to give to Jack and the women. 

Arthur untied the buck and slung it over his shoulder. 

“You going out again soon?”

Arthur turned to Duffy. Wide-eyed, he swallowed audibly when Arthur glared at him. 

“Don’t touch my horse.”

“A-alright then.”

  
  
He’d just dropped the big eight point buck on Pearson’s table when Dutch hollered for him, waved him over to his tent. A chill breeze ruffled the cracked canvas. Arthur crossed his arms over his chest to keep warm.

“I see you’re keeping busy.”

“Trying to.”

“Need you to talk to the O’Driscoll, see if you can find out anything.”

“Why me?”

“You seem to upset her the least.”

Arthur sighed, leaned against the center pole of Dutch’s tent. “Why you keep calling him that?”

Dutch blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Why does it matter?” 

Arthur dragged a hand over his face. Didn’t feel up for picking a fight. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him.”

Arthur wanted nothing more than to collapse onto his cot. Weren’t even hungry anymore. Trying to organize his time around his laundry list of shit to do to help the gang was getting exhausting.

He found Duffy by Branwen, brushing her real slow and thorough that way he always did.

“O’Driscoll boy!”

Duffy startled, turned wide eyes to Arthur. Relaxed a fraction. “Hello, sir.”

Arthur looped his thumbs into his gunbelt. Duffy glanced at him, briefly, licked his dry lips.That feeling pecked at Arthur’s chest again.

He cleared his throat. “How you been holdin’ up?”

“It’s been nice. Not. Not bein’ tied up.”

“It’s only cuz of what happened.”

“Oh.”

“And Dutch don’t believe in beating women.”

“. . . oh.”

Arthur crowded into Duffy’s space. He dropped the grooming brush, shrank against Branwen’s side. 

“But you ain’t a woman, right?”

“N-no.” Kieran straightened, determined to defend himself. “No I ain’t.” He regretted it, a little, with the look Arthur gave him after that. Not quite predatory but not quite  _ kind _ .

Arthur clamped a hand on the meat of Duffy’s shoulder, ground into the flesh above his collarbone. “You gonna tell me where Colm is, now? Or should we tie you back up and  _ really _ let Bill go at you with them tongs?”

Kieran knew he’d have a bruise. Met Arthur’s eyes, steady. “Six Point Cabin. Up past Valentine.”

Arthur’s grip loosened, but his hand stayed to guide Kieran over to Dutch’s tent. Dutch eyed him from head to toe with disinterest.

“She tell you anything?”

“Said Colm’s up at Six Point Cabin and he’ll take us there.”

Dutch considered it for a moment. Nodded. “Good. Take Bill and John and check it out.”

It was warmer away from the Overlook, warmer than it should’ve been, this time of year, and Arthur started to sweat under all his layers. They didn’t pass anyone else on the road. Had maybe an hour, two before sunset.

Duffy was quiet, only spoke up to point out directions. Bill, on the other hand, never knew when to keep his goddamn mouth  _ shut _ .

“You going soft on us, Morgan?”

Arthur sighed through his nose. “You talkin’ about fighting that big bullock up in Valentine? How wise you think it woulda been  _ beating  _ a man to death when we’re suppose to be lying low?”

“I saw your eyes, Morgan. You didn’t go clever, you went soft.”

Arthur gripped the reins tighter. Really wished they’d had someone else to send along for this. “I’ll take it, I guess. After all, you  _ are _ an authority on not being clever.” He couldn’t see Bill’s face, riding ahead of him as the trail narrowed between dusty crags of sun bleached granite, but the other man was quick to respond.

“The captive bleeds a little, looks at you with some big doe eyes . . . you gonna let Colm go free?”

“I was fighting Colm when you was  _ pretending  _ to fight Indians.”

“Don’t call my record into question!”

“It’s your ‘abilities’ that call your record into question.”

Kieran cleared his throat. “Now we go left, road’ll take us up and ‘round.”

Bill finally shut up and rode ahead of Arthur. Arthur found his eyes drifting to Duffy’s back. Tension clear in the set of his shoulders, only touched John enough to stay on the back of the horse. Arthur was pretty sure if Duffy’s shirt weren’t so loose he’d be able to count every knob of his spine and jut of his ribs. _No wonder_ _he_ —

“You know, you all ain’t that different from the O’Driscolls.”

“What did you just say?” John snapped, turned around to glare at Duffy. He looked fit to fall off the horse.

“I been watching you all these weeks and, uh. . . .”

“You’ve had your head up a horse’s ass, you don’t know  _ nothing _ about this gang.”

“Ye-yeah well, I’d-I’d say you don’t know much about the O’Driscolls.”

Was Duffy really gonna try  _ defending _ them, after everything Colm had done to him?

“But maybe I know more about you than you know about them. . . and I know  _ all  _ about them, so—”

“Tell us, then, how are we like those mongrel dogs?”

Arthur was ready to intervene, half sure John would toss Duffy off the back of Old Boy if this kept up much longer.

“You’re outlawed like them, you live rough, fighting the law, you’re out for yourselves—

“Yeah well, that’s where you’re wrong. We ain’t selfish and Dutch would never do to  _ anyone  _ what Colm did to you.”

“From where I been you just  _ look _ the same, is all.”

“Then you looked but you ain’t  _ seen _ .”

_ You all ain’t that different from the O’Driscolls. _

Arthur ignored the thought. “John shut that boy up.”

The sun cut across the path. Arthur was glad for his hat, but his neck and hands itched with the beginnings of a sunburn. An elk bugled ahead of them, disappeared into the trees. The road widened and Arthur’s horse fell into step beside Bill.

“Who knows if this son of a bitch we got with us is talking true, but if it’s what he says it is. . .and Colm’s here. . .we can end  _ years _ of fighting. Here and now.”

“Amen to that!” John called back to him.

“I swear, this is where he—”

“Shut up.” Just about anyone else riding with an O’Driscoll on their ass would’ve smacked him. John may be an idiot but at least he wasn’t cruel. 

_ Ain’t that different from the O’Driscolls. _

Arthur stretched his shoulders and shoved the thought down somewhere around the bottom of his boots where we could walk it to death, later.

“Okay, now-now cut left up here. W-we go down the hill, into the forest.”

John met Arthur’s eyes, waited for his nod before angling Old Boy where Duffy indicated.

Arthur just wanted to get the whole thing over with. Preferably before it got too dark. Was having trouble remembering when he’d last slept.

Weren’t much of a forest, scattered pines trying their damndest to sprout from the dry land. The dead grass crunched beneath the horses’ hooves like so many dry bones. Heat shimmer distorted the space between the trees, turned a familiar landscape into something almost dream-like.

Shit, when  _ was  _ the last time he slept?

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed at the obvious bags there. His horse weren’t anything special but it could follow a herd and avoid running him into boulders, so he wasn’t too worried about having to watch where he was going. When he opened his eyes he caught Bill watching him with  _ that _ look on his face again. Arthur offered him a rude gesture.

“We’re going in quiet, taking them out as we can find ‘em, trying not to set things off. But if we do, we move quick and hard. Okay?”

“Okay by me!”

“With you, Morgan.”

Arthur didn’t care for the way Bill kept looking at him. Pulled his horse so they could drop to the back of the line as they crested a small hill. Turned into an honest forest on the other side. Temperature dropped a good amount, sun long hidden behind them. Faint paths crisscrossed in the dirt, just game trails, nothing a wagon could get through. Trees crowded on either side, old oaks thick around as Arthur. Skinny pines with no branches low to the ground swayed in the breeze. Sweat cooled against his neck, around his wrists, eased the sunburnt sting there. 

“Hey, we’re real close. I’d leave your horses other side of this clearing.”

The trees thinned. A rough ridge of dirt cut across the top of the hill, probably from an old landslide. “This is it. The cabin’s just the other side of this hill.”

“Okay, off your horses. Let’s go.”

Duffy wobbled as he dismounted. Wore that waxy scared expression and Arthur could see his hands shaking. “Follow me, alright? It ain’t far.” Looked straight at Arthur as he spoke in a rough whisper.

John got an arm around Duffy’s shoulders and yanked him close. “We might’a shared a horse, but we ain’t friends. Remember, I’m watching you. Every moment.” John shoved him forward, gun pressed to his lower back. Much of the color had left Duffy’s face.

They crept along the hill, half-crouched, Arthur taking up the rear and checking behind them occasionally. Hadn’t passed a single person on the ride over and you couldn’t see the horses from the road, but with how their luck had been lately. . . . 

“I ain’t gonna shop you now, come on. It’d be suicide.”

“You’ll die,  _ woman _ , but I’d let Micah at you first,” Bill snarled.

A whole body flinch made Duffy stumble the last few steps up the hill.

“Bill be  _ quiet _ ,” Arthur hissed.

_ You ain’t so different. _

They paused atop the ridge. Forest thick, older pines close around a small clearing. Would almost be a pleasant place to spend a day if it weren’t crawling with O’Driscolls.

“Cabin’s in the clearing down there. Colm’ll be holed up, passed out booze blind likely as not.”

Bill shifted, pointed his gun into the trees. “Someone’s comin’.”

John got a hand up over Duffy’s mouth, gun held at his temple. Arthur glanced over at them with a quick  _ shh _ . Motioned for John to leave Duffy behind as the three of them advanced down the hill. Duffy’s distraught bugged-out eyes stirred something in Arthur that he couldn’t shake.  _ Ain’t so different from the O’Driscolls. _

Colm had a lot of dumb men working for him and they made quick work of the camp. Arthur made his way over to the cabin, reloaded as he went. Adrenaline had faded to an almost giddy excitement: if Colm was here, they could end things,  _ really _ end things. Only thing they’d have to be concerned with was the law. Hell of a lot easier to do when they didn’t have to worry about a shootout anytime someone left camp.

Arthur reached for the handle, too deep in his thoughts to hear the movement from the other side. The door burst open and he was thrown onto his back, a man he didn’t recognize pointing a rifle at his face and laughing. 

A shot rang out. For half a second Arthur was convinced he’d been shot, but the man’s blood sprayed from his gut and he collapsed sideways onto the porch. Arthur allowed himself to relax, relieved, splayed out with his head hanging off the porch.

“You alright?”

Kieran, upside down and fidgeting, gun pointed at the cabin.

Arthur slumpbed, relieved. Knuckles grazed the dirt. “Sure, thank. . . you.”

Arthur hauled himself up. Ducked into the cabin, pistol drawn, but it was empty 

John and Bill finally decided to be useful, appeared next to the cabin with the horses.

“Thought I told you to stay put, O’Driscoll!” John growled.

“Ah shut it, Marston.” Bill was starting to look bored.

Arthur had plenty of his own ire to turn on Duffy. He holstered the gun and put his hands up as Arthur stalked over, grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

“You set us up! Colm ain’t here!”

Kieran swallowed. Eyes darted between Arthur and John and Bill. “H-he was! I swear! I-if I was settin’ you up, I wouldn’t have saved your life!”

“It’s a good point, Arthur,” Bill said from somewhere next to him.

Arthur growled, shoved Duffy away. Felt a right fool for letting himself be hopeful and wanted to cover his shame with anger. Angry, he could do. And he was certainly angry when  _ Bill _ was the one to have the most sense between them.

“Alright then, go on. Get out of here.” Arthur gestured into the woods behind Duffy.

Kieran stuttered over his response, panicked look bouncing between the three of them. “I’m as good as dead on my own! Colm O’Driscoll’s gonna lose his mind about this.”

“So?”

“Ain’t no concern of ours,” Bill groused. 

“Just leave him, Arthur, we got enough mouths to feed.”

Arthur sighed, rough. Stared Duffy down. Duffy shrank into himself. Looked particularly pathetic, trembling in a dirty shirt and ripped pants. John was right, they had enough problems feeding the people they actually cared about. 

But now the anger had dimmed, Arthur reconsidered. Duffy  _ had  _ saved his life, shooting when he did. Arthur’s gun had been trapped against his back and he wouldn’t’ve been able to draw a pistol in time.

_ Ain’t so different. _

Arthur beckoned Duffy closer. He shook his head, minutely, then shuffled over. Arthur dropped a hand onto his shoulder and gave it a hard squeeze, a little shake.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you back, you hear?”

“N-no sir, you won’t. I promise.” 

Arthur moved towards his horse.

“So you got the money, then?”

Paused, glowered at Duffy. “What money?”

“Yeah, in the chimney!” He started for the cabin, but Arthur pushed him back towards John.

“I’ll get it. Go back to camp and be useful. Bill, tell Dutch old Kieran here ain’t worth killing just yet.”

John rolled his eyes, a petulance falling over his face. Bill grumbled and mounted, kicked off towards camp without waiting for John to do the same. Arthur shoved Kieran towards John, sent him stumbling into John’s chest. John pushed him away with a disgusted look and climbed onto Old Boy. Didn’t help Kieran scramble on.

Arthur didn’t wait to see them off. Made quick work of searching the cabin. Came away with a good chunk of cash and a shotgun that needed some cleaning.

Could hear the law dogs close by when he was finished. Quickly stuffed the spoils into his saddlebags and urged his horse towards Strawberry.

_ You all ain’t that different from the O’Driscolls. _

\+ + - + +

_ Sons of Dutch. Makes us brothers _

Arthur wanted to gag when Micah said it. Pissed him off, fierce, seared into his bones like the bullets he’d barely dodged. 

Arthur knew how to handle angry but fuck if he was going back to camp just now. Would love to fall into the familiarity of his cot after that disaster, but the thought of facing Dutch, of being civil with folk who were entirely undeserving of his anger set Arthur to grinding his teeth.

So he turned away from the Overlook and made his way towards the river. Changed directions at the last minute and headed for Blackwater. Might as well go do something else since no one would let him sleep once he got back to camp. Least getting Sean back didn’t involve shooting up a whole goddamn town.

Caught an earful over his long absence, but the party made most folk forget they hadn’t seen him in near two weeks. Arthur hung back as Sean gave a big speech.

He wasn’t much in the celebrating mood. Sure, he was glad to have Sean back, but. . . something still felt  _ wrong _ . And he was so damn tired. Seemed like he barely got a full night’s sleep before he was shuffling off to the next task. Everything was always so goddamn  _ urgent _ , was always  _ his _ problem to see to. The hell was everyone else even  _ doing _ , most days? No wonder they harangued him whenever he left for more than a day.

Whatever good mood he’d had after Sean’s rescue evaporated. Arthur stalked over to a crate of beer, grabbed two bottles. Ignored whoever had been talking to him and stomped towards the horses.

Kieran was always easy to find.  _ Always _ by the horses. Arthur wondered if he knew there was more to camp than the goddamn  _ horses _ .

Least this time of night he had the decency to be doing something else. Arthur found him reading next to the scout fire, looked to be one of Mary-Beth’s books.

“O’Driscoll.”

Kieran snapped the book shut, shot to his feet. “I ain’t—”

Arthur jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Uh, go where?”

Arthur held up the beers in one hand, clinked ‘em together. “C’mon.”

Kieran followed. They didn’t go far, just to a log rolled into the tall bushes near the edge of camp. Obscured so folk couldn’t see them had they been sober in broad daylight.

Arthur offered Keiran one of the beers, gestured at the log with it. “Sit.”

Keiran took the bottle and dropped without a word. Arthur settled next to him and Kieran could feel his warmth through his ratty coat. But not so close they were touching.

“Been thinking about what you said. About how we ain’t ‘so different’ from the O’Driscolls.”

Kieran glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Oh?”

Arthur nodded towards camp. Even so far back by the horses they could hear laughter mixed in with Javier’s singing, something in Spanish no one could keep up with. A well and truly drunk Mary-Beth and Tilly were dancing with each other, giggling, tripping over their skirts. Could just make out John’s idiotic guffaw at the table over by the chuckwagon.

“Still think that?”

Kieran’s eyes fell to the beer in his hands. Rolled it around a few times before chugging. Arthur watched the way his lips sealed around the bottle, cleared his throat and averted his eyes soon as he realized what he was doing.

“Most folk here are decent, I suppose,” Kieran said after a long pause.

Arthur took a swig of his beer. “Anyone givin’ you trouble?”

Kieran shoved the bottle back into his mouth. Arthur heard it hit his teeth.

“You can say if Bill or Micah’s botherin’ you, they can’t mistreat you if you’re just out here minding your own business.”

“They haven’t touched me or nothin’.” Almost too quiet for Arthur to catch. 

That  _ twist _ , again, in the space round back of his heart. Tightened the space between his ribs and made Arthur feel  _ small _ .

Had a thumb under Kieran’s chin, lifting his face to meet Arthur’s eyes. “Hey. Just cuz they ain’t touched ya don’t mean they’re treating you proper.”

“Isn’t so bad.”

“Isn’t so bad, or isn’t the  _ worst _ ?”  _ You deserve better _ popped into Arthur’s head but he didn’t say it.

Kieran pulled from Arthur’s grip, shuffled down the log. “Thanks for the beer.”

Arthur stood, abrupt. Coughed into his hand. “Well. Catch you later.”

Thought maybe he wouldn’t be able to sleep with all the laughter and music around camp, but Arthur was out before he could take off his boots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around! Come find me on tumblr @jarbaje


	3. in the meadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Specific chapter warnings: mentions of past abuse, animal death, mild transphobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look it's been less than a month like I said it would be!

Arthur took advantage of everyone being hung over from Sean’s party and snuck out before dawn. Didn’t see Kieran watch him leave from the scout fire. Hadn’t gotten much sleep but wanted to be alone for a few hours, figured he might as well go hunting. 

Maybe they weren’t so different from the O’Driscolls. Got drunk like ‘em, killed like ‘em, on the run and living on the fringes just like ‘em. 

Put Arthur in a foul mood, thinking about it. Tried to shift his focus to something more pleasant but the only other thing he could think about was his damn horse. 

The stallion was not doing so well. He’d caught a bullet in Strawberry and hadn’t healed proper. Arthur wondered if some farmer could give him a better life, or if it would be kinder to just put the walker out of his misery.

Arthur shuddered at the thought. The horse wouldn’t work for him, but that didn’t mean it had to  _ die _ . Couldn’t turn it loose, thing was too domestic to survive in the wild. Might make a good first horse for some kid. He’d only ever bucked Arthur once, and it was really Arthur’s fault for not noticing how close they were to a cliff edge.

Arthur shook his head to clear it and set off for the Heartlands.

  
  
  
The bad mood burned itself out by the end of the day. The sun had long set before he came back to the Overlook, pronghorn over the back of his horse and a prairie chicken tied to each side of the saddle. Squashed down the surge of  _ something _ when he saw Kieran out by the posts, checking Silver Dollar’s hooves. Wasn’t happy to see Micah’s horse back at camp. Briefly wondered what kinda “peace offering” he had. 

Hitched on the other side of Kieran so he was near trapped between the two horses. Arthur dismounted right next to him. Kieran didn’t step back, like he used to, almost moved closer to Arthur.

“Good huntin’?”

Arthur cleared his throat, dug around his saddlebag. Turned back to Kieran, nearly pressed into Silver Dollar now. “Hold out your hand.”

Arthur’s eyes flew to Kieran’s throat as he swallowed. Still followed instructions, held out the hand that didn’t have a hoof pick in it. Arthur dropped the item into it without much fanfare.

“Was in town picking some things up.”

Kieran studied the unfamiliar wrapping, fancy script difficult to read.  _ Was _ able to recognize one word. “Chocolate?” Looked at Arthur, who’d turned his head to the side, hid his eyes beneath his hat. One hand wandered to the back of his neck.

“It’s the only one they had.”

Kieran turned the candy over, slid a finger beneath the paper and gently tore it open. Broke off a piece and shoved it into his mouth. Couldn’t mask the noise of pleasure as the chocolate coated his tongue. Honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d had something so good. At one point he’d closed his eyes.

“Glad you like it.”

Kieran’s eyes flew open, but Arthur was already on his way to Pearson with his kills.

  
  
Arthur woke earlier than he wanted to, the next morning. Couldn’t get back to sleep with Grimshaw hollering at the girls to get to work right next to his tent. Just sat with his legs over his cot, elbows on his knees and head in his hands for a few minutes. Felt like he woke up with a headache more often than not, probably from not sleeping proper. He pinched the bridge of his nose, stuck his hat on his head, and made a decision.

Spotted Kieran soon as he stepped out from his tent—was tending to Arthur’s horse, looking over his legs, knees. Had all the saddle and tack off and looked like he’d already given the walker a thorough brushing.

“Morning, Mister Duffy.”

Kieran only startled a  _ little _ , smiled when he saw it was Arthur.

“Mornin’, Arthur.”

Arthur leaned against the hitching post, thumbs in his gunbelt, nodded at his horse. “How’s he lookin’?”

Kieran lowered the leg he’d been inspecting to the ground, pat the stallion on the neck. “He’s not lame yet, but he will be if you ride him much longer.”

“Anything you can do?”

Kieran thought for a moment, kept his eyes on the horse. “If I had some burdock root, I could make something for him.”

“Know where I could find some?” Arthur inched closer while Kieran was distracted; Kieran jerked, knocked into the walker. The horse grunted.

“I-it usually grows near water.”

Arthur crossed his arms, stroked a hand over his stubble in an exaggerated gesture of contemplation. “Well, there’s a river not too far from here.”

Kieran nodded, eyes glued to a white splotch on the horse’s neck. 

Arthur edged closer, leaned into Kieran’s peripheral. “Think you could show me what it looks like?”

Kieran glanced at Arthur, then quickly around the overlook. Everyone was either busy, asleep, or out on jobs and no one was watching them. “I-I don’t think I’m allowed to leave camp.”

“Ah you’ll be fine, I’m keeping an eye on ya,” Arthur said as he clapped Kieran on the back. “Go get your horse, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran opened his mouth to protest the epithet, but closed it when he saw the broad grin spread across Arthur’s face.

No one tried to stop them leaving camp. Only person who seemed to notice was Lenny out on watch, and all he did was give them a quick hello-goodbye. Arthur told him where they were going, that they’d be back soon, no need to send anyone out after them, and if Dutch asked after Kieran, tell him he was helping Arthur find a remedy for his horse.

Kieran didn’t want to admit it was nice to get out of camp. Got tiring, worrying about what folk might do to him. Was a little warmer away from the Overlook, too, trees pushed back from the path so the sun reached them. Thought maybe he recognized the area, just a bit, as the road sloped down from camp. 

Kieran tried to keep behind Arthur, but Arthur dropped back until they were riding side by side at a brisk walk.

“What’s this plant do, exactly?”

“Oh, uh, it helps the muscles heal better, least that’s what I seen when I use it. Colm’s boys never treat their horses well so I made a lot of this to keep ‘em going.” Kieran peeked over at Arthur, hardly raising his eyes from where they stared between Branwen’s ears. Arthur was giving him an odd look, something close to a smile lurking beneath the stubble and the sunburn and the circles under eyes. Kieran swallowed, loud. “What?”

“How’d you fall in with someone like Colm O’Driscoll anyways?”

The question surprised Kieran and he looked fully at Arthur. Kieran dithered under the intense scrutiny, desperately scanned the landscape for a change of subject. Spotted the river and kicked Branwen into a trot. “River’s just ahead, should be able to find some burdock easy.”

Arthur allowed Kieran to lead the way along the riverbank. The more time he spent around Kieran, the more confused Arthur was, about a lot of things. Didn’t make a lot of sense for someone as vicious as Colm O’Driscoll to have someone as gentle as Kieran around, even if he was uncommonly good with horses. Not like it was hard to find people to care for horses.

Arthur wanted to think Kieran’s skill with horses was the only reason Colm had kept him around. The other reason, the one that Arthur knew had to have been the  _ real _ reason, made his skin crawl and turned his stomach. Why the hell hadn’t Kieran run from a situation like that? Not like it was hard to live this far out as a man, Arthur had met plenty of women in men’s clothes and more than a few of them hadn’t been obvious, even up close. Had only met one other person like Kieran, though, that weren’t just a woman dressin’ different to keep herself safe on the frontier. Maybe that was why Kieran stayed, terrible as it was—least with Colm he was  _ alive _ .

Arthur knew if he were in a similar situation, he would’ve chosen death. Didn’t seem like a life worth living.

He really wanted to know why Kieran had stayed. 

Kieran dismounted next to a patch of plants with tiny purple flowers, crouched to inspect the leaves. Then he dug around the plant with his knife until he could pull the skinny brown root free. Arthur tied their horses to a nearby tree and watched Kieran from the corner of his eye.

“These are good ones, should be able to make a big batch.”

Arthur motioned for the plant and Kieran handed it over. Arthur inspected it as Kieran went to dig up another. Decided to sketch it into his journal so he’d have a reference for later, found a rock to sit on while Kieran gathered more of the plants.

A pleasant coolness drifted off the river. Yellow and green songbirds dipped over the water. Arthur found himself distracted by the scene in front of him—the quiet burble of the river, geese honking overhead, a small herd of deer on the opposite bank. Could see a few ducks on a sandbar in the middle of a wider part. The smell of early autumn drifted off the trees in the slight breeze and Arthur pulled in a deep breath through his nose, took his time letting it out. Forgot all about sketching the burdock.

“Arthur? You alright?” Kieran stood near his shoulder, a half dozen or so roots tucked into the crook of his arm.

Arthur nodded, closed his journal, stood from the rock and stretched. Didn’t like the series of pops that started in his knees and went up his back and through his neck.

“Nice day out, ain’t it?”

Kieran glanced around, quick. “Guess so. Shouldn’t we be getting back to camp?”

Arthur shrugged and made his way over to a tree that stretched over a sandier part of the bank, backed up to a low rise. Looked like a downright pleasant place to take a nap.

“What’s the rush, Mister Duffy?” Arthur stretched out in the shaded area, propped his head against the bank. He’d been right, of course, the soft sand just about nicer than his cot, if it weren’t so prone to getting down the backs of his boots. The shade from the tree kept off the heat of the mid afternoon sun.

“I just thought. . . I ain’t suppose to leave camp, is all.”

Arthur indicated a wide, flat rock next to where he’d stretched out. “Keep an eye out, will ya? Just gonna rest my eyes a bit.”

“Dutch asks too much of you,” Kieran blurted as he sat on the rock before he could stop himself.

Arthur sighed, crossed his arms over his stomach and closed his eyes. “Sure, sometimes.”

Kieran watched Arthur, waiting for him to say more, but he was already asleep. Snored a little through his nose ever so often. Kieran wasn’t going to disturb him for anything short of a firefight, so he just tried to enjoy the good weather and the clear skies and the peace of being mostly alone.

The breeze picked up as the sun stretched towards dusk. Once it had edged below the treeline, Kieran thought about waking Arthur. Had been at least a few hours since they left camp but Kieran knew what Arthur really needed was a whole night of uninterrupted rest. And not coming into camp in the middle of the night and leaving again just after dawn. Kieran was willing to bet Arthur hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep at a time since the shootout at Six Point.

He studied Arthur’s slack face. He’d turned towards Kieran as he slept and a string of drool had darkened the shoulder of his ruddy jacket. A thick lock of hair had fallen over his face, puffed out with each breath Arthur took. Was the longest Kieran had seen his hair in the whole time he’d been with the van der Linde gang. When was the last time Arthur’d gone to a barber? When was the last time he’d done  _ anything _ for himself?

Kieran hesitated, hand hovering above Arthur’s hair. Wanted so badly to brush it back, looked so soft, sun caught up in the lighter bits.

His hand betrayed him and moved the hair off Arthur’s face, tucked it behind his ear. Arthur snorted awake and Kieran snatched his hand back, looked the other way as a furious blush colored his features.

“Something wrong?”

“N-no, thought I saw a bug on you was all.”

Arthur studied him, not moving from the position he’d sprawled in to nap. Usually slept with his hat over his face when he weren’t in a tent, but that soft spot deep within him had wanted Kieran to be the last thing he saw as he fell asleep.

“Should head back before someone comes lookin’ for us,” Arthur said as he stood and brushed the dirt from his pants. Tossed his hat on his head and made his way over to their horses. Kieran hung back and kept his eyes on the ground. Heart felt like it was trying to punch its way from his chest. He ignored it, stuffed the burdock root deep into his saddlebag and mounted up without looking at Arthur.

They rode in silence. Arthur tried and failed to cover a yawn. Kieran instinctively wanted to tell him to get more sleep, how unfair it was Dutch kept sending him all over the place, running him ragged.  _ Kieran _ got more sleep, he was certain, even with the underlying fear that made him jolt awake at night. Was always up before dawn, too, getting the fires going from coals. Didn’t think anyone had noticed it was him doing it but he had to make himself as useful as possible, didn’t want Arthur to regret saving him, didn’t want to give Dutch any reason to kick him out or kill him. Knew being kicked out would be worse. Knew Colm would be a lot more creative with his torture than a pair of hot tongs. He’d do every terrible thing he’d ever done to Kieran ten times over before killing him. Kieran figured Dutch would be kind enough to put a bullet between his eyes.

Arthur pulled Kieran from his thoughts. “Thanks for doin’ this.”

They’d made it nearly to the hitching posts without Kieran noticing. “Just trying to do my part.” Kieran dismounted next to Arthur, their hips brushing for a second as they hitched the horses. Kieran ducked under Branwen’s neck to get the burdock roots from the saddlebag. 

“I’ll put some on him today and leave the rest in your tent when I’m finished.” And he hurried off before Arthur could say anything else.

Arthur watched Kieran retreat to the scout fire. That far-down squeeze in his chest came again. 

Didn’t have any time to think on it, though, cuz Marston was walking up to him saying something about oil wagons. Arthur apologized for forgetting, but Marston had already taken care of it and now all they had to do was wait for nightfall.

\+ + - + +

_ Ain’t so different _ . It clanged around Arthur’s skull as he smacked an unwilling gentleman in the face with the butt of his repeater. 

_ Ain’t so different _ stuck behind his eyes, right on top of his pounding headache as they dodged the law.  _ You live rough, you live hard _ .  _ You’re outlawed like them _ .

_ Ain’t so different _ dug between his shoulders as he watched Sean, Charles, and John head in different directions. It had been just after sunset when they stopped the train, couldn’t have been more than an hour since they got off and fled. Turned his horse on a meandering path around the Heartlands, would make camp in a few hours once he was sure he didn’t have any law behind him.

Arthur kept at a steady pace, somewhere between a trot and a canter. Lost himself to thought as they rode along the empty roads winding through the hills. Didn’t notice the birds spook as they passed, or the deer bounding off into the night.

They  _ weren’t  _ so different, really, when you looked at the broad strokes. Different paintings done by the same hand. Big blocks of color with hazy details the signature of a shared artist.

Arthur kept telling himself they  _ were  _ different, the two paintings. Colm O’Driscoll the blackened flagship of a fleet of shiftless marauders. A familiar shape hidden behind storm clouds yellowed by a setting sun. It was obvious what him and his men were, to anyone who looked. Something to be feared. Done up in harsh, thick strokes, the color only able to be described as somber.

Where Colm was violence on an open sea, Dutch was peace at the foot of a mountain. 

_ Their _ painting was something idyllic Dutch had painted long ago that was in need of restoring. Bright earthy colors of an agrestic landscape with a big blue open sky. A small town tucked against low hills, verdant fields stretched out towards distant mountains. The promise of an easier life.

If you put the two side by side, you’d see the similarities, sure, the artist’s signature in the bottom corner, the styles the same. But you almost wouldn’t believe the same person painted them.

Wouldn’t you?

Colm’s violence ran long and deep but his paint was clear, wet with fresh blood. He didn’t run across the country chasing freedom, he didn’t care about the guns beneath him. Cannon fodder to keep the law at bay.

Dutch’s painting was an old one, covered in a grimy patina, but there was something wonderful waiting for them under the dirt and the cracks and the splits in the frame.

Wasn’t there?

Arthur could hang on to that, that dream, that promise Dutch had made him twenty years ago. That was worth sticking around for, wasn’t it? They just needed money, and look how much they’d gotten from this job. Sure, the law found them fast and a small part of Arthur wished not so many had died from it, but they weren’t  _ anything _ like the O’Driscolls. They had no part in that painting, wouldn’t be hung in the same gallery, forgotten amongst the artists’ earlier works when their hand was less skilled.

They were different  _ enough _ , weren’t they?

Arthur pulled his laboring horse to a rough stop. The animal didn’t have the breath to protest.

He dismounted and surveyed the Heartlands sprawled before him. An unfamiliar sourness roiled his insides. Tried to sort through his feelings towards Duffy, towards Dutch, towards their whole situation but the night was catching up to him and he wanted to  _ sleep _ .

Arthur sighed and returned to his horse. Poor thing’s legs were shaking and Arthur hurried to remove all the tack, give him a rub down and some of Kieran’s medicine, a few treats and soft apologies.

Didn’t bother with his bedroll or a fire. Sun had started to come up when Arthur laid against his saddle, pulled his hat over his eyes and kept a hand on his revolver.

  
  
He should’ve expected Dutch to be on him soon as he got back. Arthur wasn’t in the mood for it and it took all his remaining strength not to snap at him.

“Charles said John went in to Valentine for some work, I want you to go join him.”

Arthur dragged a hand over his face, didn’t care about hiding how tired he was. “Just got back, Dutch.”

“And what exactly took you so long?”

_ Jesus _ , Arthur did not have the patience for this right now. He started towards his tent. “Didn’t want to lead the law back to us.”

Dutch clamped a hand down on Arthur’s shoulder. “I need you to do this for me, son.”

Arthur shrugged out from under Dutch’s hand. “Marston can wait a day, can’t he? Just robbed a damn train and I ain’t even  _ slept _ .”

Dutch’s brows drew together, eyes darkened, face pulled into a deep frown. Arthur had seen Dutch angry plenty of times, rarely had it directed at himself.

“What has gotten  _ into _ you, son?”

Arthur deflated under Dutch’s glare, sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “I just need some sleep, Dutch, I’ll head out first thing tomorrow.”

That seemed to satisfy Dutch. The anger melted into a smile and a familial clap to Arthur’s back. “I appreciate all you do for this family, son.”

Arthur only nodded and trudged over to his cot. Didn’t even take his boots off, flopped face-first and was out.

Kieran had watched the whole exchange over Branwen’s back. Got him wondering how Arthur couldn’t see it. The way Arthur and John talked about Dutch and the gang, made them all out to be family. Kieran would admit he didn’t have much experience with how a normal family looked, but he knew it weren’t like this. 

He had the patience to wait until most everyone was asleep before seeking Arthur out. Found him at the edge of camp, swinging his legs over the lip of the cliff and looking up at the stars. Kieran had kept an eye on him throughout the day, dismayed at how many folk came up asking Arthur to help out with something. Arthur’d ended up chopping wood, carrying grain for Pearson, helping the girls dump out the dirty wash water. Kieran hadn’t seen him sleep for more than an hour without being interrupted again.

Kieran knew he wasn’t very light on his feet, but it seemed like Arthur knew he was coming more than a mile off.

Smiled at Kieran, crinkled the corners of his eyes. Kieran didn’t see Arthur smile much, but he’d also never seen him smile that way at anyone else. His stomach flipped when Arthur pat the space next to him. Kieran eased onto the cold rock and picked at the frayed edges of a hole in his pants.

“Thanks, for the chocolate.”

“Sure.”

Kieran didn’t have the confidence to stick his legs over the edge, sat cross-legged instead. Folded in tight on himself out of habit. “How’d that business with Micah go? Seemed he was gone real long.”

Arthur scoffed, brought one leg up and bent it in such a way that their knees brushed. “Not well. Shot up a whole town and took off talkin’ some nonsense about not coming back to Dutch without a peace offering.”

Kieran shifted a bit closer until their knees met. Arthur didn’t try to move away. Kieran pulled the chocolate from his pocket, broke off two pieces and offered one to Arthur.

“Na, got that for you.”

“Did you get one for yourself?”

Arthur shrugged. “Never had much of a sweet tooth.”

Kieran waved the chocolate in front of Arthur’s nose until Arthur snatched it from him with a grin. Kieran opened his mouth to say something and Arthur tossed the chocolate in with perfect aim. Kieran snapped his mouth shut on impulse.

“That was suppose to be  _ your  _ piece!”

Arthur bumped his shoulder into Kieran’s. Kieran wanted to be upset that he only got this kind of affection when no one could see it, but a bigger part of him was just happy to get whatever he could. That smile he loved so much returned to Arthur’s face and Kieran risked leaning in to put a quick kiss to Arthur’s cheek.

Arthur pulled back, face gone blank with shock. Kieran’s heart sank and he was scooting backwards, stumbling over apologies before Arthur even knew what was happening.

Kieran tried to be quiet in his rush to get away. Weren’t sure exactly where he wanted to go, heart pounding with the need to  _ run _ .

Found himself by a big tree and leaned against it. Stupid, he’d been so stupid, _why_ _did I do that_? Arthur was being nice, that was all, he got little things for people all the time, Kieran knew. A pen for Mary-Beth, some candies for Tilly, soft pelts for the seats around the fires. Was just what Arthur _did_ and Kieran had gone and kissed him like the goddamn idiot he was. 

Footsteps on the leaf litter and Kieran’s heart shot into his throat. He pushed away from the tree, bark rough and cold against his palms. Nowhere to go without  _ leaving _ but Kieran didn’t care, wanted to put as much distance between himself and his mistake. Didn’t think he could face Arthur right now, maybe never again, maybe death was better than feeling like this—

A hand twisted into his collar and jerked him backwards.

“Where you going, O’Driscoll? Running back to Colm to tell him where we are?” Micah backed Kieran into the tree, slammed his knife so close to Kieran’s head it caught up some of his hair. 

“N-n-n-no, I just wanted to go for a w-w-walk, I swear.”

“A walk, this late at night? Bet you was walking right back to your  _ friends _ .” Micah danced his fingers along the hilt of the knife, across the tree before gripping Kieran’s chin. Leaned in close and Kieran gagged on the smell of his breath. “Don’t see why Dutch keeps you around, ain’t even allowed to  _ fuck _ you.”

“Back off, Micah.”

Micah stepped back, hands in the air feigning innocence. “You wanna go at her first, Morgan? Finish what you started over by the cliff?”

Arthur’s pace didn’t slow and he got both fists in the front of Micah’s shirt, shook him rough. “He ain’t done nothing but help, so why don’t you leave him the hell alone?” Arthur shook him one last time, shoved him back. Yanked the knife free and threw it into the bushes. Micah stumbled, landed on his ass in a puff of dirt. 

Micah held up his hands in that falsely placating way Arthur hated. “All you had to do was say she’s claimed, Morgan, and I’ll back right off. Won’t fuck around with a kept woman.”

“That why you hang off Abigail so much?” 

Kieran regretted his brief moment of bravery when Micah snarled and tried to launch himself at Kieran. Arthur intercepted him, slid his gun halfway from his holster. 

“Fuck off, Bell.”

Micah spat in the dirt at Arthur’s feet. “Fine, she’s spoiled goods anyways. Who’d wanna fuck Colm’s cast off.”

Arthur grabbed Micah’s collar, practically dragged him into camp and tossed him towards a table. Someone hollered at them to shut the hell up and let everyone get some sleep. 

Kieran slid down the tree, crumpled at its base and drew his knees up to his chest and tried to suppress a sob. Footsteps crunching up behind him had him tensing again, but it was just Arthur. Crouched next to him, tilted Kieran’s head towards him with the gentlest press of fingertips to Kieran’s chin. 

“You okay?”

“He didn’t do nothing.” Kieran’s lip wobbled around the words. Micah hadn’t done more than grab him, he’d had much worse at the hands of Colm and his men. But the touch dredged up a whole mess of unpleasant memories. 

“Hey, it’s alright.” Arthur stood, offered a hand to Kieran and hoisted him off the ground. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“But it’s so late.”

“Didn’t stop you earlier.”

Kieran lingered a few steps behind Arthur. Arthur slowed, then stopped altogether and turned to Kieran. 

“Y’ain’t a dog, you can walk next to me.”

Once they reached the road that ran past camp, Arthur pulled one of Kieran’s arms through his own. Kieran curled his hand around Arthur’s bicep but held back from tilting his head into the soft fabric of Arthur’s jacket like he so badly wanted to. 

“Why’d you run off?”

“Thought. You looked. Looked like you didn’t want that.”

Arthur laughed low, under his breath. “Just surprised me was all.” He put his hand over Kieran’s and gave it a gentle squeeze. Kieran realised they’d stopped walking, that Arthur had taken them to a small clearing surrounded by tall trees and thick brush. The half moon was bright in the cloudless sky and washed all the color from everything except the deep rich blue speckled all over with stars and the wide band of the Milky Way. 

Kieran slipped his hand from Arthur, wrapped his arms around himself. Was a lot cooler away from the fires and his jacket was full of holes. Arthur frowned, slid out of his jacket and draped it over Kieran’s shoulder before he could protest. 

“You know he ain’t got a right to treat you like that.”

Kieran pulled the jacket tighter, tried to be subtle about inhaling Arthur’s scent from the collar. “I don’t wanna cause no trouble.”

“Ain’t causing trouble if he started it, ‘s just defending yourself.” Arthur reached a hand towards Kieran, who didn’t need much more invitation than that and tucked himself against Arthur’s chest. Arthur slid his arms under the jacket, could feel the frantic pounding of Kieran’s heart through his thin clothes. 

“Sure you’re alright?” Arthur asked in a soft whisper, Kieran’s head planted firm against him. 

Kieran tilted his head back. Looked straight into Arthur’s eyes, opened his mouth to say something but Arthur closed the gap with a kiss before Kieran could speak. Kieran made a surprised noise in the back of his throat that twisted up Arthur’s heart and made it hard to breathe. 

The handful of Arthur’s shirt Kieran clung to was the only thing that had him convinced he was still on earth. Actually whimpered when Arthur pulled away. Both panted into the shared space between them. 

Kieran blinked, slow, looked up at Arthur. Face gone so soft around the edges it made Kieran’s heart pound with renewed fervour. Arthur held his gaze for all of a few seconds before clearing his throat and starting back for camp. Kept a less obvious hand on Kieran’s lower back. Removed it entirely when they got close where anyone on watch could see. Kieran tried not to be disappointed. 

“G’night,” Arthur leaned in to whisper in his ear before they parted ways at the hitching posts. 

Wasn’t until Kieran curled up on his ratty bedroll that he realised he still had Arthur’s jacket. 

Arthur was gone before Kieran woke up. His heart sank clear down to his toes until he got over to his saddle, found a crisp piece of paper tucked into the saddlebag among the bottles of horse medicine. 

_ Last night was nice.  _

The simple message had been scrawled above a rather detailed sketch of Kieran polishing a saddle, head turned away to something in the distance. Kieran carefully folded the paper, slid it into his pocket before anyone else could see.

Camp seemed a lot quieter than usual. Took Kieran a few hours to realize it was because Dutch and Strauss had left at some point, and Arthur and John were still out. Hadn’t been more than a day or two between Arthur’s trips but Kieran felt his absence almost like a missing limb.

\+ + - + +

The horse died beneath him as he fled the massacre they’d set off in Valentine. Got him within a hundred yards of camp before shuddering and collapsing, sending Arthur flying into the dirt. Arthur dragged himself back over, saw the many bullet holes and said a quick apology. Gathered up his saddle and limped back into camp. 

Realized he hadn’t even given the horse a proper name.

Nobody on watch, everyone scrambling to pack before the law got on them. Arthur ignored the look Kieran sent him, took all his focus to put one foot in front of the other.

“Arthur? What happened to your horse?”

“Dead,” Arthur wheezed, dumped the saddle at Kieran’s feet. “Get that on a horse. Any horse.”

“You sure you can go out like that?”

“Like  _ what _ ,” Arthur spat, swaying.

“Uh. W-well it’s-it’s just that. Well it looks like you’re. . . you’re covered in blood.”

“Probably from the horse, or the hundred other idiots since we shot up a whole goddamn town!” Arthur hurled the last bit towards camp, hoped Dutch was around to hear it. Something stung Arthur’s eyes and he went to wipe it away with the back of his hand, stopped when he saw the blood on his arm, the tears in his sleeve. Whatever energy he’d been running on was fast failing him, vision honing in on a single spot on the grass between Kieran’s feet. Thought he heard someone call his name but there was black spilling over his eyes and that was distracting and he didn’t feel himself falling.

  
  
Woke with a jolt in the back of a wagon, too many hands trying to hold him still.

“Goddammit Arthur  _ calm down _ !”

Hosea’s voice cut through the fog and Arthur stopped thrashing. “What happened?” He tried to sit up, didn’t have the strength to.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out but you have to  _ hold still _ .”

Arthur sagged, tried to get a look around the wagon. Hosea and Grimshaw where back there with him, but other than that it was just crates and supplies. Couldn’t tell who was driving.

“Where are we?”Arthur allowed Hosea and Grimshaw to move his limbs around. Hissed when someone found a bright spot of pain along his side.

“Heartlands, heading south. How much do you remember?”

“Horse died.” Grunted as Hosea held him up while Grimshaw peeled his clothes away. Tsked at what she saw, had a silent conversation with Hosea over Arthur’s head. “Fell off, walked back to camp. Gave my saddle to Duffy and don’t remember the rest.”

“Good news is you ain’t got any new holes.” Miss Grimshaw’s voice was farther away, followed by the sound of glass bottles clinking around. “Nothing looks too deep but your ribs are definitely broken.”

“What about this cut here?” 

Arthur reached up to where Hosea was pointing on his head, winced when he jammed his fingers into the wound. Hosea eased Arthur’s hand to his side, face tight. “Just hold still, Arthur. You know what the hell happened in Valentine?”

“A goddamn  _ mess _ ,” he grumbled, leaned forward into Hosea. He hadn’t slept well the night before, was nearing two days without proper sleep. Small wonder they’d even escaped Valentine with everyone alive. “Cornwall. Pinkertons. All the law in the whole damn  _ state _ , seemed like.”

“Dutch said Strauss was the only one hit,” Miss Grimshaw tutted from behind Arthur. Started dabbing a cold liquid along his sides that stung almost worse than the wounds.

“Coulda happened on the way out. We split up.”

Arthur missed the look Hosea and Grimshaw shared over his shoulder, eyes sliding shut again.

“Think he’s out for good this time.”

“Can’t believe Dutch. The  _ nerve _ of that man, sometimes I swear!”

Hosea held Arthur as Susan did her work, helped wind the bandages around his torso.

“Don’t know what he’s been thinking lately. Turned us into a bunch of goddamn killers.” 

Susan gave Hosea another of those lingering, meaningful looks they’d been sharing a lot in recent months, and with even greater frequency since the Blackwater mess. Hosea sighed, lowered Arthur down and moved to sit at the back of the wagon as Susan tidied the cut that disappeared into Arthur’s hairline.

They’d loaded into the last wagon, had to leave a good chunk of munitions behind to make room for Arthur. Hosea had snapped at Dutch’s protests and hadn’t seen the man since. Only thing farther back in the train was Kieran, leading a string of their spare horses. Bill was somewhere next to their wagon, hollering insults at Kieran to keep him going. Kieran kept his eyes on his horse, occasionally checking the string behind him.

How the hell had they gotten into this mess?

Hosea watched Bill drop back a bit, ride almost too close to Kieran.

“Bill! Go ask Dutch where the hell we’re going!”

Bill glowered at Hosea as he rode past, but it wasn’t far off from his usual expression. Hosea gave Kieran a small wave that he tentatively returned. Hosea sighed and settled in for a long bumpy ride.

  
  
They ended up far south in the cloying humidity of Lemoyne. Arthur woke again as the wagon stopped, tried to protest when Hosea and Grimshaw made him sit on a crate as everyone else set up camp. Tried to stand and help but the world lurched sideways and he probably would’ve fallen if Charles hadn’t happened to walk by at just the right moment. Hosea was over in a flash, threatened to tie Arthur to a tree if he didn’t rest.

“You hit your head pretty hard, Arthur,  _ please  _ rest.”

Arthur grumbled about it, unwilling to admit out loud just how much his head  _ throbbed _ . Every breath hurt, too, and the combination was fast sending him to grouchiness.

Didn’t notice Grimshaw and Hosea appear at his sides until there were hands on his elbows, gently guiding him over to his tent. “Alright, Mr. Morgan, let’s get you into bed.”

Big part of him wanted to snap, but he knew they were just trying to help him. And really, he had no place to protest, not with how wobbly his knees felt. Would’ve fallen without their help, not that he’d ever say it out loud. Briefly thought it was odd he hadn’t seen Dutch or John since Valentine but decided he was too tired to care about it right now.

Grimshaw excused herself, but Hosea stayed, hip leaned against Arthur’s table. Arthur knew the stare well, had been subjected to it enough while he was growing up.

Arthur sighed. “What, Hosea?”

“What the hell happened, Arthur?”

Arthur did as brief a summary as he could. Rustling the sheep, meeting Dutch at the saloon, and then being set upon by Cornwall and his men.

“When Dutch came back he said you were fine.”

“Was, when we left. Strauss was the only one who got shot. Think I was more tired’n anything else.”

“Getting thrown from a horse probably didn’t help.” Hosea put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder when he tried to sit up. “No, you stay here and rest, you’ve done enough. Don’t think I haven’t seen how you’ve been running yourself into the ground lately.” Hosea gave the shoulder a squeeze, offered Arthur a fond smile. “Get some sleep.”

Arthur laid back on his cot, exhausted, dizzy, but unable to sleep. His head pounded. He was unused to the southern heat and he already hated it and they hadn’t even been here a day. He settled for listening to the sounds of camp being built around him. Couldn’t get much of a view out of his tent but it sounded like Dutch was nearby. There was a series of crashes, Pearson shouting he was alright. Arthur realized he hadn’t seen Kieran since he stumbled back to Horseshoe.

Half sat up, groaned as the world spun around him. Gave up and laid back down, hands pressed beneath his eyes. Knew he needed sleep but it wouldn’t come. 

Ended up dozing, not completely asleep. Could hear it when someone approached his tent, propped himself up on an elbow and blinked blearily into the darkness. Looked like most folk had settled in for the night, lamps dim, the only sounds crickets and the lake lapping against the jetty behind him.

Kieran cleared his throat. “You awake?”

“Yeah, c’mon in.”

Kieran settled on the edge of the cot. Arthur pressed his thigh into Kieran’s lower back. Kieran wasn’t sure where to stick his hands, didn’t have long to think about it ‘cause Arthur grabbed one and held it between both his own. Arthur’s hands were a bit damp from the heat but Kieran didn’t care, knew he never would. Just leaned into Arthur’s leg as they sat there in the dark. Arthur’s grip gradually loosened around Kieran’s hand as he relaxed further into his cot.

“What’re you thinking about?” Kieran asked, not sure Arthur was still awake.

Arthur opened his eyes, turned them towards Kieran. “Used to be, you put enough time and distance between you and the problem, eventually it went away.” Arthur sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now. . . . Now we’re just running and I don’t know if we’re ever gonna stop.”

_ You could leave _ , but Kieran didn’t say it. Arthur squeezed his hand, brought it up to kiss the knuckles. “Best get to bed ‘fore anyone sees you.” Gave Kieran’s hand a last squeeze before releasing it.

Kieran’s heart surged into his throat when Arthur’s lips pressed into his hand. Before he could stop himself, Kieran swooped in and captured Arthur’s lips in a lingering kiss. When he pulled away they were both panting, breathless.

“I’m real glad you’re alright,” and Kieran was bustling from the back of the tent, skirting along the lake and praying no one had seen them.

Arthur pressed two fingers to his lips, more than a little stunned. His chest ached, squeezed around his heart and he couldn’t catch his breath for a long time.

_ What the hell am I doing _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i doing the slow burn right


	4. we may find peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> specific warnings: dysphoria, references to past abuse
> 
> Bill is such an asshole and I'd somehow missed him going after Kieran at Clemens Point on my first playthrough?

_ Clemens Point _

The unrelenting humidity had everyone at each other’s throats. Kieran did his best to keep out of the way. Stayed at the scout fire, or near the lakeshore, or hidden in the shade during the hottest parts when folk retreated to their tents. Only ventured in for the evening stew, or to get the fire going before Pearson woke up.

Hadn’t hardly seen Arthur since the first few days at the new spot. Was out of camp more than he was in it. And whenever he  _ was _ in, spent all his time sleeping face-down on his cot or locked in tense conversation with Dutch. Came back one time with a shiny deputy badge and Kieran was dying to know the story behind  _ that  _ development. 

Arthur’d only had time to speak to Kieran twice, just long enough to squeeze his shoulder and give him that smile that always made Kieran melt. 

Had been at least a weak since Arthur was in camp, no sign of him coming back any time soon. Kieran’s fear had been growing, itching up his neck and he knew something was bound to happen soon. 

Kieran had just bent down to grab a bowl of stew—he ate last, as usual, weren’t expecting much except some mushy beans but it was better’n starving—when heavy feet clomped up behind him. 

Didn’t know what the hell Bill had been up to, to put him in such a mood that he grabbed Kieran around the middle and slammed him to the ground next to the cook fire. Got his foot between Kieran’s knees, forced his legs open. Kieran cried out, hat gone flying into the wet red dirt. Bill had that same pair of white-hot tongs as he’d threatened Kieran with at Horseshoe. 

Bill cackled as Kieran flailed beneath him. “Hold still! Pearson said he’s short a little meat for the pie!” He dug a hand into Kieran’s shoulder, near his neck and Kieran’s heart jumped. Dropped onto his knees and locked one of Kieran’s legs between his own. The other hand held the hot metal close to Kieran’s eye, so close it watered from the heat. 

“Stop it! This ain’t funny!” Kieran’s eyes darted around for Arthur, knew there was no way he’d be in camp but prayed we might just appear like he had when Micah grabbed him.

Bill leaned in closer. Released Kieran’s shoulder to snap the hot tongs above the buttons of his pants. “Oh I disagree!”  _ Snick-snip _ . “Now why you so afraid of a pair of gelding tongs? I thought you were the horse whisperer!”  _ Snap _ . 

Kieran dug his heels into the dirt. Tried to push away but Bill was a lot stronger, Kieran’s leg held firm between thick thighs.

Kieran’s eyes locked onto the burning iron. “You ain’t right in the head!”

Bill lowered the tongs. Kieran could feel the heat between his legs. Bill glowered, half-smiling. Brought the tongs  _ real  _ close to Kieran’s face again. 

Sighed when Kieran whimpered. Bill suddenly stood, dumped the tongs into the cookfire. “Oh alright, go on.”

Kieran scrambled backwards. Flipped onto his front and stumbled for the edge of the lake. 

“It ain’t like you got balls anyways!” Bill called after him with a boisterous laugh. 

Kieran ran until his unsteady legs gave out. Made it to the mostly-dead tree near Arthur’s tent. Dropped to the earth and leaned his shoulder against it, breathing like he’d run a mile. 

The frenetic drubbing of his heart blocked out all other sounds. Kieran had no idea anyone had approached him ‘til they crouched down and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Kieran flinched. The sand made it difficult to put much distance between them and Kieran was about to stand so he could really sprint but the person called out.

“Kieran, it’s just Abigail!” She had no trouble keeping up with him. Hands held in front as if Kieran were a scared dog. “I saw what Bill did, wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Kieran focused on wrangling his breathing into something more measured and less liable to make his head spin. Abigail removed her hand, gave him some space. Kieran almost asked her to put it back.

“He can’t just do that to you.”

“I-I-I don’t want to cause trouble. He didn’t hurt me n-none.”

That frown came back. Kieran realized it was a more exaggerated version of the look Arthur gave him sometimes, something that was a close neighbor to pity and sorrow. “I could try talkin’ to Dutch. Don’t matter who you ran with, you do your part around here and that should be good enough.”

“N-no, th-that won’t be necessary.” Kieran swallowed, eyes dropped to his feet. “Please. Please don’t tell Dutch.” 

A bare whisper, but Abigail heard. Kieran missed the tight press of her lips, the crease of her brows.

“Alright, I won’t tell Dutch,” she said after a while. “You want to sleep near me’n Jack?” It wasn’t like it was a secret, the way Bill tormented Kieran—everyone in camp could see it. They all kept quiet, ‘cept Arthur, Abigail had noticed. Didn’t sit right with her but she only had so much sway.

“I’m alright. Th-thank you, Abigail.”

Abigail watched him scuttle off to the scout fire, watched the way his head swung frantically in every direction looking like he expected Bill to pounce on him again any second. Not for the first time, Abigail wondered what made Kieran stay. Running with Colm must’ve been something awful.

Abigail sighed, doused the concern that sparked within her. She had other people to worry about.

  
  
When Arthur found out about it, took all his strength not to go and strangle Williamson where he sat peacefully eating a bowl of stew.

Wanted him dead, for a second, until Kieran’s light touch fluttered over the back of Arthur’s hand where it rested on his revolver.

“Don’t cause a fuss on my account.”

Arthur stood, abrupt, and stomped over to the water’s edge. Scrubbed both hands over his face with an explosive sigh. Hurled a rock far into the lake ‘cause he didn’t have anywhere else to put his frustrations.

Kieran hadn’t deserved that. Kieran hadn’t deserved  _ anything _ they’d done to him. Arthur sighed, softer. Turned back to Kieran.

“Kieran, I—”

But Dutch was calling him over to his tent, again, and Arthur couldn’t do anything but offer Kieran an apologetic look.

\+ + - + +

Arthur was in a goddamn  _ awful _ mood. Hadn’t been in a good mood since they came to Lemoyne, and being choked mostly to death didn’t help.

Dutch always needed him,  _ always _ needed  _ him _ , running between Rhodes and the Braithwaites and the Grays. Couldn’t hardly remember the last time he’d seen Kieran. All of Arthur’s time in camp he spent sleeping, and then he was off to the next thing. Today wouldn’t be any different.

Arthur sat on the very edge of the jetty, half-empty bottle of whiskey in hand. He’d started on it last night and passed out before he could finish it. Didn’t much feel like gettin’ coffee if it meant interacting with folk. 

“Arthur? You alright?”

Arthur cleared his throat, winced. Nothing he did eased the hurt, figured he may as well spend the day drunk if he was gonna be miserable.

“Sure.”

“Don’t look alright.” Kieran nodded at the dark purple ring around Arthur’s neck. Kieran’s hands itched to check him over. 

Arthur shrugged. Knocked back the rest of the whiskey and chucked the bottle into the lake. It disappeared with a  _ plop _ . Ripples bounced off the jetty. 

“You wanna come fishing with me? Found an interesting spot, we’ll do well.”

“I’m not a great fisherman.”

An actual, honest smile stretched across Kieran’s face. Spread his arms, wide, as if to encompass the whole lake. “But I am. I’ll teach you something. Will you come?”

“Sure.”

They could still see camp from the fishing spot. Arthur’d borrowed Taima for the short trip, and she and Branwen were well occupied grazing between the trees.

Kieran took a few minutes to explain the nuances of bait. Arthur never cared much for fishing, but he was enraptured by the way Kieran’s whole face lit up as he went on about crickets and worms and lures and bobbers. Went from excited to crestfallen when he mentioned he’d lost all his lures a while back and never got a chance to replace them.

Arthur distracted him with a light nudge to the ribs. “What’s the best lure for smallmouth?”

And Kieran was back in it, excited, talking over himself and backtracking. Arthur forgot they’d come out here with a purpose until a fish broke the surface of the water to catch flies.

“Oh—suppose we better start fishing, right?”

Arthur’s face hurt from grinning. Laughed to himself, clapped Kieran on the shoulder. Hand lingered there a second too long, rubbed over the boney shoulder. Kieran’s eyes dropped to the water, but Arthur didn’t miss the furious blush splattered across his face.

They were stood almost shoulder to shoulder. Not great for fishing, but Arthur weren’t trying too hard and he didn’t send his line very far out with each cast. Kieran seemed to be taking it much more seriously, adjusting his line regularly. 

He’d dropped several bass into his bucket before speaking again. “Wasn’t that long ago I was tied to the back of your horse while begging for mercy.”

Took Arthur a few tries to clear the sting from his throat. “Long enough for you to forgive me for it?” 

Surprised himself with the naked honesty of it. Took Kieran aback, too—he stepped back, blinked over at Arthur.

_ Course I forgive you. _ “Don’t know what there was to forgive.”

“You forgive everyone who hogties you in the snow and throws you over the back of their horse?”

“Well. . . .” Kieran trailed off. Focused on the fish, flicked the rod and pulled in the line just a smidge. Never finished the thought, though, since he got a bite and then Arthur got one a second later. Kieran’s was another bass, Arthur’s a tiny bluegill. He tossed it back, like he had with the other fish he’d gotten. Didn’t have anything better than cheese bait but that weren’t important.

The sun climbed towards noon. Arthur reeled in his line, collapsed the rod and sat on a boulder near Kieran. Drank down half his canteen before speaking again. Still came out rough, like he’d been gargling rocks.

“Never did answer my question.”

Kieran’s back stiffened. Arthur wanted to take it back.

“Oh?”

“How you fell in with Colm.”

Kieran’s hands froze on the rod. It jerked but he ignored the fish on the line. It got off the hook and the line slackened.

“I was running with someone else when the O’Driscolls came through our camp. They said join up or die, so.” Kieran sighed, reeled in his line to attach more bait. “I’d only been with them a few months shy of a year. I was just a runner, helping out with the horses mainly.”  _ When I weren’t spread out on my back—  _ “Bottom rung of the ladder.”

“And to think that was the high point of your career.”

Kieran half-shrugged. Wouldn’t look at Arthur. “Colm goes through men like cigars. Not like you folks. He barely knew my name. More Kieran van der Linde than Kieran O’Driscoll at this point. But mostly. . . . I’m just Kieran Duffy.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think ‘Kieran van der Linde’ is going to stick.”

_ What about Kieran Morgan? _

Kieran choked on his own spit, the thought slammed into him so sudden. Thumped a fist on his chest ‘til he could breathe proper again. Felt Arthur watching him, prayed he missed the blush high on Kieran’s cheeks.

Arthur was distracted by Kieran’s sudden blush. Wondered what Kieran was thinking, ‘cause no way anything Arthur’d said should be makin’ him blush like that. Arthur finished what was in his canteen and rejoined Kieran. Lazily cast the line out. Hadn’t put any bait on. Didn’t care—he wanted to watch Kieran more than he wanted to watch the fish.

“So you think Dutch trusts me now?”

“Ha! Now that is a good one. Not in the slightest, darlin’.”

Kieran spluttered. His line snapped and he reeled in the slack, dug around his pants for his last hook. He sighed, exasperated.

“I can’t win. I promise loyalty, he says ‘but you wasn’t loyal to Colm’. If I say I ain’t got no allegiance to nobody, he says ‘how do I know you won’t turn on us then’.”

Arthur shrugged. “I don’t know what you want to hear. Dutch is. . . .” 

What  _ was _ Dutch, these days? Was different than the man Arthur’d first known, but there wasn’t a good way to explain that to Kieran. Weren’t sure he could even explain it to himself. “Dutch is a man who is not fast to trust,” he settled on, a weak truth but the truth nonetheless.

Real truth was. . . . well, Arthur weren’t quite ready to think it out all the way.

_ Doesn’t matter if  _ he _ trusts you. Won’t matter if we leave _ .

“What in the hell?”

Kieran’s voice pulled Arthur from his thoughts. There before them was a man, buck naked, oblivious to them on the shore.

“Watch the line!” Arthur hollered. Kieran stared at the man, slack-jawed. The high sun’s shimmer across the water protected his modesty, at least.

The man flailed, went below the surface for a second. “Oh, I’m sorry! Didn’t see you there! Why don’t you take a break, come on in? The water’s wonderful!”

“We’re here for some fishin’, if you haven’t scared them all away.”

“Oh! Well, just so you fellers know, there’s some real big ones over that way.” He pointed behind him, past where the shore jutted out and blocked the view of the rest of the lake. “Well, I better keep the blood pumping! Hope you gents catch something!”

Kieran quickly reeled in his line, turned from the shore and jogged over to Branwen. “I know where that is, let’s go.”

Less than a hundred yards from the first spot, but it was around a curve in the shore. Bank was steeper and they left the horses hitched to the trees a safe distance from the drop. Couldn’t see camp, anymore, and the far sides of the lake were obscured by some small islands. Real private spot. 

Arthur didn’t bother with his fishing rod, this time. Just planted himself next to Kieran, close enough to press their arms together. Sank a bit in the mud and made Arthur look a few inches shorter.

Kieran cast his line far out, into a cluster of ripples. Water was clear and shallow and Arthur saw some bigger shapes looming further out. Probably wouldn’t catch anything that big without live bait, but he wasn’t about to discourage Kieran. 

“So who taught you how to fish?”

Kieran’s eyes were firm on the water. “My pappy, mostly.” His throat clicked when he swallowed. “I lost my mammy and pappy when I was young, to cholera.”

“Your mammy?”

“Like I said, I was real young. After that I was on my own pretty much. But I knew horses, and fishing.”

Arthur leaned in, a hand on Kieran’s elbow, brought his lips close to Kieran’s ear. Spoke low even though there wasn’t a soul around to overhear. “Well, just think now. . . you’ll never be alone again.”

Kieran wanted to ask Arthur exactly what he meant by that. His heart lodged somewhere in his throat and his jaw worked around some kind of response. Turned his head to look at Arthur, realized how close he was. Got distracted, for a moment, watching the sun catch in Arthur’s hair. He’d left his hat in camp and Kieran could get a good look at his eyes and he almost forgot how to breathe. Arthur’s eyes darted around Kieran’s face. That part of Kieran that’d convinced him he’d die any second, the fear that informed most of his decisions took control and made him crowd into Arthur’s space to crush their lips together. Kieran’s fishing rod dropped onto the wet mud but he  _ didn’t care _ .

Arthur’s hands came up automatically, one tangled in Kieran’s hair and the other on his lower back. Pulled their bodies together, flush from hip to chest. Could feel each other’s hearts pounding through their clothes. Kieran shoved his hands between Arthur’s shirt and vest, popped some of the vest’s buttons with the force of it.

Arthur pulled back for air. Kieran chased his lips, panting. Arthur brought both his hands up around Kieran’s face, pressed their foreheads together.

“Let’s get out of the sun.”

Kieran nodded, mute, allowed Arthur to drag him into the woods by the hand. When Arthur stopped and turned to face him, Kieran pushed him back into a tree and descended on him once more. Kieran’s shirt had come free of his pants and Arthur took advantage of the space to slide his hands up Kieran’s sides. The edge of his thumb brushed over the soft underside of a small breast—

And Kieran flinched back, violently shoved Arthur’s hands away. Panic washed over Arthur, clear as the water in the lake’s shallows.

“Are you—did I—Kieran—” Arthur reached towards him. Kieran backpedalled until he hit another tree.

Arthur put his hands up as if surrendering to the law, stood a few feet from Kieran. “It’s okay, you can say if I did something wrong.”

“I—it.” Kieran whined through his nose, raked a hand through his hair. Wished it weren’t so damn hot so he’d have a jacket to hunch into.

His sigh was like a gunshot. More frustrated with himself than anything else. “I don’t. Don’t like my. . . chest. Bein’ touched.”

Arthur inched closer. Reached a slow hand towards Kieran, stopped halfway to his shoulder, opened his arms wide in invitation. Kieran fell against Arthur’s chest, but kept his hands between them, uncomfortably aware of his breasts. Had been a while since he’d felt like this, thought maybe he’d gotten over it. Almost. Arthur’s arms encircled him, ran his hands along the prominent knobs of Kieran’s spine.

“You ain’t mad?” Kieran asked after a long while, glancing up at Arthur.

Confusion pinched Arthur’s features. “Why would I be mad?” 

“Because. . . .”

Arthur dropped a kiss to the middle of Kieran’s forehead. “Don’t have to do anything you ain’t comfortable with, darlin’.” Arthur unfolded Kieran from him, kept a firm grip on his hand as he led them over to a wide tree. Arthur sat at its base and Kieran followed, curled up next to him, head in his lap and arms around Arthur’s waist. 

Arthur wasn’t sure where to put his hands, for a second. Kieran gave him an odd look and then arranged them himself, one on his hip, the other on the back of his neck. Arthur brushed the hair from Kieran’s neck and rubbed idle circles into the tense muscles.

Kieran exhaled, long, through his nose and his eyes fluttered shut.

They stayed like that for a good while. Arthur was pretty sure Kieran had fallen asleep. Was getting near late afternoon, almost early evening. The beginnings of sunset spilled orange and gold on the edges of the lake. Arthur shifted his legs, trying to ease a cramp in his thigh.

Kieran snorted, blinked up at Arthur. Had definitely been asleep, and watching him wake up twisted Arthur’s heart up into the back of his throat and made it ache in an entirely new way. Kieran rolled onto his back and Arthur took advantage of the angle to drop a quick kiss to his lips, one hand smoothing the hair from Kieran’s face.

Kieran’s hand ran along Arthur’s vest, loose where the buttons had flown off. “Sorry about that, earlier.”

“They’re just buttons.”

Something that was almost a laugh. “Not what I meant.”

Arthur caught Kieran’s hand, brought it up so he could kiss the knuckles, the palm. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’.”

Had he been standing, Kieran knew he would’ve damn near swooned. Lucky he was already flat on the ground. 

Tried to sit up, desperate to kiss some part of Arthur that weren’t covered in clothes. Arthur met him halfway, held him up with a hand in the middle of his back. They both breathed hard through their noses until Kieran forced himself back, dizzy. Arthur smiled down at him and Kieran just about died.

“See? Life ain’t so bad. Least you ain’t tied to a tree.”

Kieran sighed, turned his face into Arthur’s stomach. Once he settled, Arthur went back to running his fingers through Kieran’s hair.

“I’m still a prisoner, Arthur. I can’t step outside camp by myself for a second without being terrified one of Colm’s boys is gonna come pick me up. When I’m  _ in _ camp, I got Bill and Micah whispering in my ear all the time how they’re gonna. . . . It’s like living in a nightmare.”

Arthur’s hands stilled. He tried to meet Kieran’s eyes, but he’d buried himself good and proper into Arthur’s soft middle. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Kieran sighed again, tightened his grip around Arthur. “They don’t do it when you’re around.”

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“You ain’t been around much.”

Was Arthur’s turn to sigh. Gave Kieran’s hip a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry. Dutch has us playing both sides. Getting complicated.” Arthur thumped his head against the tree, frustrated. “Should be worth it, or so Dutch keeps saying.”

Kieran didn’t have a response. Not one he hadn’t said already, not one Arthur would accept.

Chose, instead, to enjoy the moment. Arthur’s hands went back to his hair. Kieran relaxed into the touch, took in the sounds of the forest. They’d been out for a while, he guessed, by the way light shifted through the trees. The evening winds had started to come off the lake, too.

Arthur nudged Kieran into sitting with a mumbled apology. Kieran turned right back around and pressed Arthur into a deep kiss, pushed him against the tree to get better leverage. Swung a leg over Arthur’s lap to straddle his hips—could feel the heat through Arthur’s pants and almost couldn’t hold back.

Arthur broke free from the kiss with a groan, sounded like he was having as hard a time resisting. Bumped his forehead against Kieran’s, ran his hands along Kieran’s ribs.

“Should be getting back, ‘fore someone comes looking.”

Kieran could only nod as he climbed off Arthur and trudged over to Branwen. Least he had some fish to give Pearson. Could show he was useful for more than just watching after the horses.

Arthur’s hand trailed along Kieran’s, and then he was out of reach and Arthur was hauling himself to his feet with a groan and a series of loud pops.

They rode back to camp in silence. Arthur had a moment of panic when Charles looked over at them. Then he remembered he’d borrowed Taima and that was likely all Charles had eyes for. Arthur thanked him, again, before heading for his tent. Kieran had gone to the other end of the pasture with Branwen. Did a real good job of not looking over his shoulder. Hid the longing in Branwen’s mane. Just leaned against her for a long moment, inhaling that unique horse smell he found so comforting.

Kieran woke up later than usual the next day and Arthur was already gone.

\+ + - + +

Middle of the night, two days later, when Arthur returned, Sean whooping all the way down the path from the main road. Hosea shouted at him to shut the hell up, a command Arthur echoed as he shoved Sean towards his bedroll.

Kieran watched from the dim scout fire. Hadn’t been sleeping well since they’d gone fishing. Kept thinking he’d messed things up too badly and Arthur wasn’t coming back. Dutch would probably blame Kieran, being right about it, for once, and then kill him. The worry made it impossible to sleep; Kieran kept himself busy trying to read a book Mary-Beth lent him, but it was slow going without someone around. He’d gotten decent at the letters but still had a hard time piecing them together as whole words. 

Other than Hosea, no one else had been disturbed by the noisy return. Arthur looked around, spotted Kieran awake, and hurried over to him. Almost walked past him, gestured for Kieran to follow. Kieran scrambled from his bedroll, double checked no one was awake to see them, and jogged after Arthur.

Once they were well hidden by trees, Arthur whirled around and crushed Kieran to him in a desperate bear hug. Kieran squeaked at the sudden movement but settled into the embrace. Could feel the rapid thud of Arthur’s heart.

Arthur smelled like he’d rolled in a mountain of cigarettes.

“What was it this time?”

Arthur inhaled deep from his spot tucked into Kieran’s neck. Kieran shuddered when Arthur’s lips grazed the underside of his jaw as he spoke.

“Does it matter?”

It took a lot of effort, but Kieran pushed away, just a few inches, to get a better look at Arthur. Hair lank over his forehead, almost in his eyes. Something dark smudged across his cheeks, his nose, his clothes.

“Is this ash?”

“Set fire to a tobacco field.” A brief chuckle. “Sean nearly set  _ me _ on fire. Kid couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”

“And you’re okay?”

“ ‘m fine.” Arthur snagged Kieran’s hand, dragged him deeper into the woods.  _ Can’t stop thinking about you _ . But all he said was “I missed you.”

Spun Kieran around without warning and set about devouring him. Kieran melted, let Arthur be the only thing holding him up and pretty soon they weren’t even standing, Kieran eased backwards onto the leaflitter. Arthur settled his knees next to Kieran’s hips, hovering, not wanting to put much weight on him. Kieran ached to be touched, yanked Arthur down so fast Arthur had to throw his hands out to catch himself. Had Kieran caged, now, hands by his shoulders, knees pressed against his hips.

They breathed into the inch between their faces, eyes searching each other for  _ something _ . 

“You sure this is alright?”

Arthur’s hands alighted on Kieran’s shirt—if Kieran hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t’ve known they were even there.

“I think. I think it will be, if you’re—if-if you’re the one to do it.”

Arthur kept his eyes on Kieran as he undid the ratty shirt. Kieran looked away when Arthur slid it open, left it on Kieran’s arms and back so he wouldn’t be half naked in the dirt. He moved back up to Kieran’s face, started at his lips and took his time exploring Kieran’s jaw, his throat. The world spun a little when Arthur sucked a bruise behind Kieran’s ear and he couldn’t hold back the needy whimper. 

“You ever been with someone like me?” Kieran managed to gasp out as Arthur worked his way down Kieran’s throat, along his collar bones, the hollow between them.

Arthur pressed a warm, lingering kiss to the middle of Kieran’s chest. “I been with men before.”

“I—I mean—”

“I know how to handle what you got, hush and let me take care of you.”

Kieran would have protested further but Arthur had drawn a nipple into his mouth, kneading around his other breast with his free hand. Kieran sucked in a noisy breath when Arthur’s other hand skimmed over his pants. Kieran hadn’t been wearing anything in the way of undergarments when he’d been taken, and no one here had seen fit to give him any, and he was naked as the day he was born beneath the jeans.

“I mean you ever been with a man with girl parts!” Kieran felt the need to say it, difficult as it was to speak with Arthur’s fingers inching their way under his waistband.

Arthur splayed his hand just below Kieran’s belly button. “No. But I did meet a feller, long time ago, driving cattle. Don’t see what all the fuss is about.”

“You don’t. . . . don’t think I’m  _ wrong _ , cuz of it?”

“This look like I think it’s wrong?”

Arthur knew it weren’t the right thing to say soon as it left his mouth. He crawled back up Kieran, covered his body with his own and held his face between his hands. “There’s nothing wrong with you, darlin’.”

Kieran’s lip wobbled. “You really think so?”

Arthur brushed a stray tear away with his thumb. Smiled down at Kieran like he was the only thing in the world that mattered. “Sure.” His hands left Kieran’s face, started doing up the buttons on his threadbare shirt. Kieran’s heart sank.

“What’re you doing?”

“This ain’t what you need right now.”

Kieran couldn’t hold back, then. All of Arthur’s tenderness and care from the last few weeks had broken down that wall Kieran had so carefully constructed over his time spent with Colm. Arthur pulled him against his chest, one hand rubbing his back while the other smoothed over his hair.

Once he’d calmed, Arthur laid back and Kieran nuzzled into his chest, slung an arm over Arthur’s waist.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran said around a hiccup.

“What’re you apologizing for now?”

Kieran traced nonsense patterns along Arthur’s chest. “I’m messed up.”

Arthur caught up Kieran’s hand in his own. “Don’t say that. It ain’t true.”

“But I  _ am _ , Arthur, I-I ain’t normal, I ain’t  _ right _ , I. . . I been. . .  _ used _ . . . .” Kieran sighed, closed his eyes, shuddered like he’d start crying again. Arthur pulled him close, held him tight like he was scared Kieran might run off.

“Kieran, you. . . .” Arthur’s voice wavered. 

Kieran looked up at him, finally. Saw something deep and raw in Arthur’s eyes that tugged at his heart.

When Arthur spoke his voice was rough. “Don’t think like that. Please.” Arthur got his hands around Kieran’s face, the way Kieran had started to love so much. “What do I gotta do to stop you seeing yourself like that?”

Kieran dithered. Couldn’t look away with Arthur holding him like that and didn’t want to.

“Just tell me what you’re thinking, darlin’.”

“Why would you want to be with someone like me?”

A low bark of laughter escaped Arthur. Kieran was almost offended by it, but he couldn’t be mad when Arthur kissed him on the forehead like that.

“You really asking yourself that? After all this time?  _ Christ _ , Kieran.”

Kieran swatted at him, playfully, a smile splitting his face. Arthur grabbed him, rolled them over until he was leaned over Kieran on all fours. 

Brought his face real close, locked eyes with Kieran. Close enough their fronts touched with each of Kieran’s rapid breaths.

“I ain’t plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all I am WEAK for SOMFT COWBOYS. it's gonna be my cause of death.
> 
> come talk to me on tumblr! @jarbaje


	5. until the wind cries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: brief moments of dysphoria.

_ I ain’t plannin’ on going anywhere. _

_ Liar _ . Kieran thought back to that night. Arthur said he wasn’t going anywhere, and then the next day he’d gone out with Dutch and Micah, and now a week later he still wasn’t back and no one had heard anything from him. Maybe Kieran had finally scared him off, needy and emotional and  _ crying _ , couldn’t even let Arthur fuck him, was the only thing he was good for and he’d messed that up. He’d gotten comfortable, being left alone, caring for horses all day. Sure, he wasn’t anyone’s favourite; Sadie wanted him dead, Bill always glared at him, Micah threw nasty comments his way in passing. 

But he had it good here with these folks. And he’d messed it up because he  _ cried _ when Arthur wanted to touch him.

Kieran lingered by the horses longer than was really necessary. Had been for the last few days, hoping to catch Arthur when he finally decided to roll back into camp. Probably off paying for a fuck, since Kieran couldn’t give it to him—

A horse crashed through the trees. Someone on guard duty called after the rider but got no response. The horse carried on towards the center of camp, and Kieran’s breath caught in his throat. 

That big white shire. Arthur bent clear in half over the neck. Arthur falling sideways before anyone could catch him.

Kieran watched as the gang crowded around him. Hauled him off to his tent.

Kieran’s heart pounded in his throat so hard it made him dizzy and he dropped onto the dirt next to Branwen. Couldn’t do anything but listen to Grimshaw shout for supplies, Hosea snap at Dutch. Glanced up and saw all the flaps had been dropped around Arthur’s tent, shadows of three people thrown against the walls.

Could feel eyes on him from across camp. Expected to be dragged into Dutch’s tent any minute. Or tied to a tree and tortured again. Only this time it would be worse, because Arthur was probably dying and Kieran didn’t  _ know _ anything.

He stood too fast and got dizzy all over again and hurried to the shoreline. Stared out at the unmoving water and begged his heart to slow.

He watched the shadows of activity splayed against the grey walls of Arthur’s tent for a long, long time. Had been dark for about an hour when Arthur crashed into camp and the moon was halfway across the lake when Grimshaw, and then the Reverend, and finally Hosea left the tent. Swanson disappeared into camp but Hosea and Grimshaw huddled close, heads bowed, talking outside the entrance. No chance Kieran could make out what they said, but they both moved away a minute later, Hosea for Dutch’s tent, Grimshaw somewhere into the night.

Kieran waited until he was sure nobody would see him and crept over, snuck in through the back.

Would’ve thought Arthur dead if it weren’t for the flush on his cheeks and the shine of fever on every inch of skin. Union suit cut to his waist, bloody scraps discarded next to the bed along with piles of soiled bandages and rags. A bucket of reddish water near his trunk with a towel half out of it. Kieran wanted to cry when he saw the bruises, the cuts, the festering wound to Arthur’s shoulder. Panic welled far down within him and Kieran felt his knees about to give out.

The front flap was pushed back, followed by a surprised gasp from Grimshaw. She covered the surprise with an immediate scowl. “What are you doing in here?”

“I—I—I-I was w-worried was all.”

Grimshaw’s face hardened. “Go back to the horses, Mr. Duffy.”

Kieran would never argue with Miss Grimshaw even under  _ good _ circumstances, so he stumbled past her fast as his wobbly knees would carry him. Didn’t look back at the tent as he sank onto his bedroll, unable to clear the image of Arthur’s battered body from the forefront of his mind.

  
  
  
“Get up, O’Driscoll.”

Kieran cried out as a boot connected with his side. Curled in on himself but another kick came, then another, until there was hollering and the boot was taken away. Someone crouched in front of him, a light hand on his shoulder. Kieran peeled an eye open to see Abigail frown at him, concerned, then glare at something behind him. Her eyes tracked whatever it was for a moment before returning to Kieran.

“You okay?”

Kieran unfurled, slowly, then nodded.

“Dutch wanted to speak with you, but that don’t give Micah the right to  _ kick _ him!” She shouted the last part past Kieran, where he could only assume someone had pulled Micah away.

Kieran thanked her, but waved Abigail off when she offered to help him up. He shot a glance at Arthur’s tent, but the flaps were still down.

Felt Dutch’s anger clear across camp. Kieran hunched into himself and slunk over. Abigail walked next to him, a hand on the back of his shoulder. He’d have to thank her, later, because without that touch to ground him he probably would’ve collapsed from the fear.

Dutch had dark shadows beneath his eyes. His glower made Kieran shrink further into himself. 

“Did you know anything about this?”

“N-n-no sir, I been in camp, I ain’t even s-seen any O’Driscolls since Six Point.”

“Micah says he’s seen you leave. More than once.”

Kieran was about to answer, but Abigail stepped in front of him. “He’s just been out fishing, Dutch. Ask Pearson—Kieran’s been bringing him fish near every day.”

“I wouldn’t go further than the lake, s-s-s-sir, I swear! If Colm’s boys see me they’ll kill me—”

Dutch waved a hand to silence him. Sighed, sharp, through his nose. “Fine. Get back to work.”

Abigail settled her hand on his back again. Kieran would’ve said thank you if he didn’t think he’d vomit soon as he opened his mouth. Fear clung cold and sticky between his ribs, made sweat break out on the back of his neck and the tips of his fingers numb. 

To his surprise, Abigail led him over to the wagons where Tilly, Mary-Beth, and Karen complained their way through the washing and mending. The three offered greetings. Mary-Beth in particular looked mighty concerned, but Abigail shot her a look.

“Can you girls keep an eye on Kieran?”

“Of course,” Tilly offered, threw a scowl over her shoulder where Micah had settled by the main fire. “Saw what Micah did earlier. You okay?”

Kieran nodded, not trusting his stomach.

“Rotten bastard,” Karen muttered, spat behind her. “I oughta piss in his coffee.”

Mary-Beth put her knitting down, gave him a troubled frown. “You don’t look so well, Kieran. You want some water or something?”

Another nod. Abigail rubbed his shoulder for a moment before excusing herself, murder in her eyes. Kieran wondered who she was going to chew out, but he didn’t see where she went because he buried his face in his hands. Tried to hide a sob but his shoulders shook anyways. 

Tilly crouched next to him, arm around his shoulder. “It’s alright, we know you ain’t had no part in it.” She rubbed his upper arm and Kieran so desperately wanted to give in and  _ cry _ , but Tilly wasn’t the person he wanted comfort from. The person he  _ really _ wanted was unconscious, battling a terrible infection. Kieran had overheard Swanson mention last rites. 

The thought nearly sent him over. Instead, he thanked Tilly and straightened. Mary-Beth returned then, handed Kieran a canteen that’d somehow escaped the heat. The cold water helped immensely.

“Thank you, Mary-Beth.”

Kieran didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to give Dutch a reason to yell at him, or send someone else to do it for him. He excused himself once he’d finished the canteen, thanked the girls again.

Looked over to Arthur’s tent but couldn’t see a thing. 

\+ + - + +

Kieran waited to visit Arthur until he heard Miss Grimshaw proclaim the infection had abated. 

Was close to midnight before he was sure everyone was asleep. Snuck around the back, again, certain Arthur would be asleep by now.

Nearly knocked over Arthur’s table, startled by the quiet gasp from the cot.

“There he is.” It came out a weak croak, but Arthur gave him that smile Kieran loved so much. Gestured for Kieran to sit next to him. “Wondered when I’d see ya.”

Kieran hovered, not convinced he could sit so close without hurting him. “I-I tried, when you first got back, but Miss Grimshaw wouldn’t let me stay.”

Arthur snagged the side of Kieran’s pants, gave them a feeble tug and Kieran perched on the very edge of the cot. 

“That does sound like her.” He reached for Kieran’s hand. Wasn’t much strength behind the grip, so Kieran held it in his lap, eyes downcast.

A long silence passed between them. Arthur tugged on Kieran’s hand, tried to get him to meet his eyes.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Might look a bit rough but I’ll be okay in a few days.”

Kieran chewed his lip. Arthur couldn’t reach his face without sitting up, which he was not even  _ remotely _ inclined to try after Susan had forced him up to eat earlier. Had to settle for gripping Kieran’s wrist until the other man turned to face him. Kieran met his eyes for a brief moment and stumbled over his words.

“I-I thought you’d run off cuz of me. Cuz I couldn’t—”

“Oh Kieran,” and Arthur pulled him to his side one-armed. Kieran was careful of the injuries as he laid his head on Arthur’s chest. “I’d never run off just cuz you said  _ no _ .”

“But if I. If I can’t—what’s the point of keeping me around?”

Arthur sighed, hooked a hand under Kieran’s chin now that he could reach it. Gave a watered down version of that fond smile that never failed to make Kieran’s heart melt.

“Ain’t like that anymore, darlin’.”

“Are you—are you laughin’ at me?”

Arthur’s chest shook with repressed chuckles, turned into a wince when it jostled things too much. “No, no, I’m laughin’ cuz you thought I’d left on account of us not fuckin’, rest of folk assumed I’d gone off hunting, and there I was instead being tortured within an inch of my life.” He shifted on the cot, grunted through the pain as he shuffled around to make room for Kieran. “Now get down here before I do something foolish.”

  
  
  
They were lucky it was Hosea to come in and check on Arthur next. Anyone else and the whole camp would’ve known in about five seconds.

Arthur stared at Hosea with as much intimidation as he could muster. Kieran had his face buried in Arthur’s side, his uninjured arm the only thing keeping Kieran on the cot.

Hosea’s expression was more an absence of one, like he’d been reset back to default and was awaiting instructions on how to arrange his face. A long silence stretched between them and gave Arthur enough time to recognize fear building in his stomach.

“Well, I suppose this proves Kieran had nothing to do with your capture.”

Arthur released a long breath. Pat Kieran on the back a few times to get him moving. Kieran unfolded slowly from the cot, his eyes to the ground. Stood next to Arthur as he struggled to sit up on his own. Hosea seemed more or less stuck to the dirt.

“You gonna tell Dutch?” Arthur asked after another awkward silence.

The mention of Dutch finally broke Hosea from his spot. “I don’t see how it’s any of his business.” Hosea advanced on Arthur with a handful of fresh bandages and poultice. “But you two need to be more careful.”

“Yessir,” Kieran said to his feet.

Hosea paused, leaned down trying to catch Kieran’s eyes. Chose his words carefully. “I don’t disapprove, if that’s what you’re worried about. Lotta folk out there that will. Plenty of folk  _ here _ that would, if they knew. A few who might take enough offence to hurt you, either of you, but especially you, Kieran, and I’m sorry the world is such a cruel place. But you two have to be more careful.”

Kieran nodded, turned to leave. Hosea stopped him with a light press to his elbow.

“If you’re here you might as well help. Old Fenton here’s too much of a brute for this old man to lift on his own.”

Kieran blinked. “Fenton?”

Arthur’s grimace was a long-suffering one, a thin veneer over his mirth. “Ah, long story.”

Kieran held Arthur up while Hosea unwound the old bandages. Couldn’t look away from the damage to his shoulder. The patchwork of bruises . . . everywhere. Weren’t hardly an untouched inch of skin and it made Kieran want to cry all over again. But Hosea had done this enough, too many times, motions efficient. Whole thing couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes but Kieran felt utterly drained, hollow and carved-out from the gauntlet of emotions he’d run in the last hour.

With just a brief glance Hosea could tell Kieran was flagging. Gave Kieran’s shoulder a squeeze he hoped was comforting. “Why don’t you get some sleep, Kieran, you look like you could use it.”

Kieran didn’t argue. Knew Hosea was about to put Arthur through some kind of uncomfortable conversation. Equal parts of him wanted to hear it and run off into the night.

Hosea waited until he saw Kieran’s shape disappear around the scout fire. Arthur was already staring at him, more awake than Hosea had seen him in a week. Hosea sighed deep, weary beyond his bones and eased onto the chair next to Arthur’s cot with a groan. 

“What the hell are you doing, Arthur?”

“Been asking myself that a lot lately.” Scratched at the full beard he desperately wanted to shave down, or off, the extra hair in this heat close to unbearable. Sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Was wondering. . . .” 

He looked to Hosea as he trailed off. Knew what he saw there and was only a little surprised to find it.

“I’ve been thinking the same, to tell you the truth.” 

Silence bloomed between them, pushed into the cracks in the wagon.

“Things ain’t the same anymore, Hosea.”

Hosea deflated with his sigh, elbows on his knees, wrists limp. “I know son, but it seems like we don’t have much of a choice at the moment.”

“Don’t we?” Was what Kieran kept trying to make Arthur realize. Took swinging upside down like a side of beef to get him to actually  _ think _ about it. About abandoning everything he’d known, everything he’d built is life on for the last twenty years.

“It’s complicated.”

“What in our lives  _ ain’t _ complicated?”

Hosea nodded, more to himself than to Arthur. “Well, how’s about you just worry about getting better, for now.”

“Think I can manage that.”

“Good man.”

Hosea stood, dimmed the lantern near Arthur’s cot. “I’m serious, Arthur, you two have  _ got _ to be more discreet than that. I don’t think Dutch would kill you for it, but. . . . Well, just be careful.”

“Promise.”

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

\+ + - + +

Camp got back into a routine once Arthur started to improve. Saw a lot less of some folk when Hosea snapped at Sean to  _ get up and do some goddamn work!  _ Arthur even managed to get from his tent to a table without anyone noticing, and then had to be helped back into his cot after he ate half a bowl of stew. Kieran hadn’t found a good time to see him since Hosea caught them, was real mindful of eyes on his back wherever he went. Might be more than a little paranoid, at this point, but he’d survived this long being overly cautious and he wasn’t about to stop now.

Hadn’t been sleeping well. Awake into the dead of night and up before dawn most days. 

Took Kieran a good long moment to realize someone was shaking his shoulder. Rubbed the grit from his eyes to see Arthur crouched over him, grinning like an absolute fool. He’d shaved, probably on his own, judging by the nicks peppered along his cheeks. Arthur stood soon as he saw Kieran was somewhat awake.

“Get up, we’re going out.”

Kieran stumbled after him. Arthur took pity on him and slowed, brushed the hair from Kieran’s eyes. 

“Sorry. Just. Want to get away for a few days.”

“Won’t it look weird, bringing me with you?”

“Na, we’re going to check out a horse. Told Dutch I wanted your expert opinion.”

Kieran yawned into his hands, blinked in surprise when he saw Branwen already saddled.

“How long you been up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Arthur rolled his shoulders. “Gettin’ stir crazy from being laid up.”

Kieran tried to pet along Branwen’s neck, missed and slapped her on the cheek. She snorted and he apologized with a sugar cube.

“Could’ve at least had coffee first,” Kieran grumbled as they trotted away from Clemens Point. Charles, at the tail end of his watch shift, asked where they were headed. Arthur said they’d be gone a few days and not to worry.

Kieran watched Arthur’s broad back shift beneath his coat before he got too tired to keep his eyes open. “You finally find a horse?”

“Heard a rumor. You got a coat?”

Kieran snorted. “In this heat? Course not.”

Arthur’s laugh startled Kieran into opening his eyes and sitting up. “What? We heading somewhere cold?”

“Grizzlies. Lake Isabella. Rumor is there’s a horse white as the snow and mysterious as the fairies, some nonsense like that. Think it might be an escaped Arabian, from the description.”

“I don’t have clothes for that kinda snow.”

“Well, then we’ll just have to make an extra stop.”

  
  
Kieran wanted to smack that stupid smile right off Arthur’s face.

“Aw darlin’, no need to be like that.”

Kieran crossed his arms over his chest and refused to move. The smile slowly drifted and Arthur got serious, reached a hand for Kieran’s shoulder. Kieran wanted to jerk away, at first, some kinda instinct, but Arthur just rubbed his thumb around in slow circles. 

“It’s just. . . I don’t. . . I-I.” He huffed, gave up in the privacy of the back room and slumped face-first into Arthur’s chest. Arthur’s hands came up around him automatically, one curled into his hair. Kieran spoke into Arthur’s chest but it was muffled.

“Didn’t quite catch that.”

Kieran sighed, leaned back, shoved his hands into the space between Arthur’s coat and vest. “I don’t like seeing my chest. Feels  _ wrong _ , wrong like tryna use your off hand, like. . .  _ they’re _ not suppose to be there and I hate them.”

Arthur tucked Kieran’s head under his chin, hummed in consideration. “You don’t gotta look if you don’t want to. I can pick something out, help you try it on.”

Kieran kept his eyes near the ceiling as Arthur buttoned up the new shirt, shook out a nice fur-lined coat. Took a step back to admire his work before plopping Kieran’s tattered old hat on his head with a shit-eating grin.

“There, that should do it.”

Kieran stuck his hands into the coat pockets, found a pair of soft black gloves there, lined with rabbit fur.

“This stuff feels real expensive.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Arthur dropped a kiss on Kieran’s nose, spun him around and marched him from the back room. “You look great. Wait for me by the horses.” 

Arthur paid for the clothes, stuffed a few more supplies into his satchel. Extra coffee. Splurged on some nice chocolates, almost cost more than Kieran’s clothes.

He caught Kieran talking real soft to the big shire. Arthur wasn’t sure why he had put off getting another horse for so long. Felt awful for how the walker had died, shot out from beneath him and Arthur no more than bruised. 

Was more inconveniencing  _ himself  _ at this rate, not having a horse of his own. Truth be told, he wasn’t too keen on an Arabian, found them to be finicky and too high strung. Wasn’t even convinced this horse existed—a white horse all by itself up in the mountains? How the hell was this thing even alive? 

Really, he just wanted an excuse to get Kieran away from camp. Had wanted to, for a while, and Hosea walking in on them only strengthened the urge. 

“Keep spoiling him like that and the stablemaster’s gonna poke fun at me for having a fat horse.”

Kieran jerked his hand back. The sugar cubes tumbled to the dirt and the shire wasted no time gobbling them up. Branwen darted her head in to steal one.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Did they really call him fat?”

Arthur thwaped the shire on his thick neck. “Yup. Chunky bastard. Had to put him through his paces to get him back in fighting shape.”

“Bet he likes the exercise. Sitting around all day ain’t good for drafts, they gotta work to be healthy.”

Arthur led them past a half-finished house, a bored stagecoach whose driver asked if they needed a ride. Kieran half-recognized where they were and the trail was too narrow to ride side-by-side, so they fell into silence as they meandered. Past a glassy lake and through close-growing trees lousy with squealing wild boars.

The path opened to a meadow and Kieran urged Branwen next to Arthur. 

Kieran had never seen so many flowers in one place his whole life. Didn’t realize he’d made any kinda noise until Arthur looked over at him with that smile Kieran would die for.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” Arthur stopped his horse. 

Kieran felt a little dumb, looking out at something so pleasant. Was so damn peaceful it didn’t seem real, the sun bouncing yellow off a stream in the middle of all that green and purple. Could just make out splotches of brown, deer grazing. A single dead tree in the middle of it. Thought maybe he saw some horses, far off, wished he could get a better look.

Arthur leaned down to plant a wet kiss on Kieran’s cheek. It startled Kieran and he tore his eyes from the meadow; Arthur laughed, loud and clear, kicked his horse into a trot. “C’mon, gonna be dark soon.”

  
  
The cabin wasn’t exactly on the way to the lake, but Arthur wanted to show it to Kieran anyways.

“Why’s it up so high?” Kieran asked as they hitched the horses.

“Not sure, don’t care much except that it keeps the bears away.”

Arthur climbed the ladder first. It was darker in the woods than it had been in the meadow. Would be too dark to do anything else but stay inside, soon.

It was small, but not cramped. Kieran  _ loved  _ it, endeared to the miniature stove, the neat shelves, the clean bed, the rough table with a single chair. The tiny window hardly let in the light at all and the whole place smelled of woodsmoke. 

Kieran squeaked, caught by surprise when Arthur grabbed him by the belt and dragged him in for a long kiss. Kieran was damn near breathless when Arthur released him.

“Can you get a fire going? Gonna see if I can get something fresh to eat. Not much game once we get into the mountains.”

Kieran couldn’t help the whine that came up his throat. Grabbed onto Arthur’s coat so he couldn’t get very far. “Don’t leave.”

“You rather have dry meat and canned peas?”

“I’d rather spend as much time with you as I can get.” Kieran almost told Arthur he’d eaten worse than dried meat, had actually eaten  _ grass _ , once, but he didn’t want that sadness to furrow between Arthur’s brows, the way it always did whenever Kieran mentioned how poorly he’d lived.

Arthur shrugged, easily defeated. “If you insist.”

Kieran got the fire going in less than a minute. Had gotten real good at making fires and keeping them burning what with how he practically lived at the scout fire. The cabin warmed fast and Kieran tossed his new coat over the end of the bed. It would be a bit of a squeeze, but that just gave him an excuse to cling to Arthur like a vine. Arthur tucked into the table, slicing up venison and cheese while Kieran warmed a can of peas on top of the stove.

“How’d you find this place?”

“Was out hunting, wandered over here. Seemed abandoned.” He waved at the cans stacked on the shelves, a broken lockbox next to the stove. “Keep a few things here but nothing I wouldn’t miss. Should be a bowl and a spoon in the box down there.”

Kieran dumped the lukewarm peas into the bowl and brought it over to the table. He sat on the bed while Arthur remained in the chair, noticed Arthur passing him more slices of meat and cheese than he took for himself. Kieran knew it was pointless to protest—Arthur was determined to make sure he ate and Kieran secretly loved it. Was so used to starving he’d forget to eat most of the time unless someone shoved food in his face. Arthur tried to eat the smaller half of the peas but Kieran just shoved the bowl back at him.

Soon as the sun went down, the cabin was near pitch black. The flicker of the fire was the only thing lighting the place, sending everything into warm wavering shadows. Made Kieran drowsy with how comfortable it was.

Kieran stifled a yawn, kicked his boots under the bed. Belt clattered to the floor but he left the rest of his clothes on and wiggled under the blanket. Curled in on himself not unlike a cat. He caught Arthur smiling over at him before adding more wood to the fire. Tucked his own boots next to Kieran’s and slipped under the blanket. Kept most of his clothes on knowing it would get awful cold in the middle of the night, just about impossible to keep the fire going that long anyways. Wouldn’t be cold enough to kill them but certainly uncomfortable without the extra layers.

A long silence unfurled between them, interrupted by the crackle of logs, embers pinging off the belly of the stove.

“I’m sorry,” Kieran said after enough time Arthur thought he’d fallen asleep.

“What for?”

“At the store. Can’t even get clothes without it being a whole thing.”

Arthur leaned onto an elbow, propped his head in his hand. “That why you never got new clothes?”

Kieran nodded, knees still drawn up to his chest. “Well, just the ones Miss Grimshaw forced me to get in Rhodes on account of how bad I smelled. Before that, though . . . Mary-Beth offered me some of her old things.”

“Oh?”

“Old dresses.”

“Oh.”

Kieran sniffed. “She meant well, I know that, but I ain’t worn a dress in more than ten years. It’s not who I  _ am _ .”

“Well,” Arthur prodded Kieran into stretching out, back-to-chest so Arthur could gather him up in his arms. “I can tell you again it don’t make a difference to me, if that helps.” Nuzzled into Kieran’s neck, left his lips there. The heat seared through Kieran and made him shudder.

“It does, some. I still want to rip my tits off and throw them to the wolves most of the time.”

Arthur’s breathy chuckle tickled beneath Kieran’s hair. “Wouldn’t be much of a meal.”

Kieran made to swat at him, pretending to be offended, but Arthur pressed another kiss to Kieran’s neck, then another, then behind his ear. Kieran shuddered again, deep, a pleasant ache starting between his legs. He rolled over so he was facing Arthur. Arthur paused, hands on Kieran’s hips.

“How far you want this to go?”

Kieran took Arthur’s hands and shoved them under his own shirt, started attacking the buttons of Arthur’s vest. “Don’t you dare stop, Arthur Morgan.”

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice. Kieran all but ripped Arthur’s clothes off. Arthur took a little more care, lingered, punctuated each undone button with a kiss to a different spot on Kieran’s jaw. Kieran sighed into each one but started to get impatient. 

“ _ Arthur _ .” A high pitched whine. He wiggled his hips closer to Arthur trying to entice him to move faster. 

Arthur hushed him by capturing Kieran’s lips. Dragged them between his teeth and didn’t let go until Kieran’s shirt was nearly open. Arthur pulled back, searching Kieran for any discomfort, any smidge of hesitation. 

“This alright?”

Kieran released a breathy sigh, shimmied out of his shirt and flung it across the cabin. “Didn’t tell you to stop, did I?”

Arthur damn near attacked Kieran’s bared chest. Kept his eyes locked on Kieran’s. “You’re uncomfortable at all you tell me, okay?”

Kieran grabbed Arthur’s head in both his hands and looked him dead in the eyes. “If you ain’t touching me in the next five seconds I might just die,” and jerked him into a desperate kiss that was more teeth than anything else. Arthur’s hands fluttered up Kieran’s sides, hesitated for a second before touching his chest. 

Kieran looked fit to slap Arthur when he pulled back from the kiss to glare at him. “For chrissake they’re _just_ _tits_ , Arthur.”

That was the last bit of convincing Arthur needed. Kieran’s head fell back as Arthur worshiped the soft skin, nipped the undersides before pulling a nipple into his mouth. Kieran’s breath left him like he’d been punched when one of Arthur’s hands strayed downwards to tease his clit. Kieran didn’t think he’d ever been so wet in his life. He throbbed and ached and  _ clenched _ around the fingers Arthur crooked up inside him. Arthur captured the gasp with his own lips, muttered something Kieran was too incoherent to catch. 

Kieran shivered, so close to the edge he could see the drop down the other side. Arthur sucked a trail of bruising marks along Kieran’s collarbone and withdrew his fingers just as Kieran started begging to be put from his misery. 

Some kind of feral growl burst from Kieran when Arthur withdrew, immediately replaced by a whimper as he watched Arthur shove his pants off and take himself in hand. 

“Don’t you dare.”

Arthur stopped, eyes wide in near panic. “What.”

“Ask if I’m alright.”

Arthur pulled Kieran half off the bed, mashed their lips together in the sloppiest kiss of his life and slid home in a single easy motion. 

Kieran had never felt like this, this  _ want _ scorched through his bones, heated up every part of him so hot and fast he worried he might catch fire and burn them both down to ash. His breath left him in a rush. 

Arthur paused a second too long. Kieran rolled his hips.

“Did I say stop?”

“No.”

Kieran rolled his hips again. “Then don’t stop.”

Arthur shakily released a long breath before starting up a gentle pace, increased it when Kieran panted that he weren’t made of glass. Wasn’t long, in the dense warm air of the cabin, before that feverish pressure boiled low in his gut.

“ ‘m close.”

Kieran didn’t seem to hear him, utterly lost to their rhythm. Head tossed back against the pillow, eyes closed and mouth open around noisy breaths. Arthur was a second from coming, wouldn’t be able to hold it off any longer even if god himself commanded it. 

Suddenly Kieran shot upwards. Locked his arms around Arthur with a cry. His walls clenched around Arthur and that finally sent Arthur off his own cliff.

Kieran released him. Collapsed back onto the bed, pulling himself from Arthur with the movement. Arthur winced, pat Kieran’s thigh and blindly groped around for something to wipe them down with. Arthur’s own thighs quivered as he languorously cleaned Kieran and then himself. Stretched out next to Kieran; Kieran faced him, chest heaving, eyes shut, reached blindly until Arthur grabbed his hands, nuzzled into the palms and kissed along the rough calluses. A tiny content sigh came from Kieran as he settled against Arthur’s chest.

  
  
  
“Why now?” Arthur asked, later, running a hand through Kieran’s hair.

_ Because I think I love you _ . “Camp ain’t so private.”

Arthur snorted, planted a long kiss on Kieran’s forehead. “Shit, you shoulda said something. Would’ve taken you to a fancy hotel a  _ long _ time ago.”

“Wouldn’t be so subtle, that.”

“No, it wouldn’t, but I don’t rightly care.” Arthur kissed him again, along his jaw, back to his ear in a way that had Kieran shivering all over again.

“You can’t tease me like that if you ain’t ready to go again.”

“Mmm, you ain’t seen all my tricks yet, darlin’.” Arthur kissed his way down Kieran, pausing at the sensitive spaces on his sides before sinking between his legs.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Kieran squeaked, and then he lost track of anything beyond Arthur’s tongue laving between his folds, darting inside and back up his sensitive nub. Both Kieran’s hands flew to Arthur’s hair, probably gripped it hard enough to hurt, but it only made Arthur more enthusiastic. Arthur got both his hands around Kieran’s ass and used the leverage to lift him closer. 

Kieran twitched, panting, certain he’d die before he could catch his breath. When he began to buck in Arthur’s hold, Arthur splayed one large palm against Kieran’s belly, holding him firm against his tongue. Kieran forgot where he was, who he was, who he had been, didn’t have so much as a brain anymore, reduced to physical sensations and points of touch, the fire between his legs. Dizzy from how fast he was breathing and hotter than the sun certain he would collapse on himself in a pile of ashes only to burst forth at the last second, quivering around Arthur, pushing him away as he grew oversensitive.

Kieran splayed, boneless, took up the entirety of the bed. Arthur had a hand high on his chest, over Kieran’s racing heart. Kieran realized he was laughing, and the absurdity of it just got him laughing harder. Could feel the sweat cooling all over and he shivered.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Kieran could only nod. Certain he’d never breathe normal again, didn’t have the space to form words yet. Weren’t sure he could remember how to speak. Tried to say something like  _ thank you _ or  _ I love you _ but all that came out was gibberish.

Arthur smiled at him, again that smile only Kieran ever got to see, the one with no teeth that crinkled around his eyes. Arthur smoothed the hair away from Kieran’s face and he closed his eyes, willed his heart to stop trying to run away from him. He wanted to drink in the sight of Arthur with no clothes on, but Kieran could fight sleep about as well as he could fight a bear. 

Felt cool lips on his forehead, something that sounded like  _ get some sleep _ , and then Kieran was dead to the world.

\+ + - + +

The lake hadn’t looked far from the cabin on the map Arthur showed Kieran before they rode out the next day. 

But they’d both forgotten how long it took to ride up steep hills and through deep snow, like it had been years since they were last in this area and not a scant few months. 

Kieran watched Arthur eat, his own meal forgotten. Couldn’t stop thinking about what those lips were capable of. Arthur caught him staring, swallowed loudly. Opened his mouth to say something but Kieran tackled him to the bedroll before he could speak.

Was goddamn  _ cold _ so Kieran didn’t fully undress, didn’t bother with much of Arthur’s clothes either. Arthur wondered if he should tell Kieran to slow down, but Kieran’s hand had already disappeared into Arthur’s pants and gotten a firm grip around him. Arthur groaned out his name, worked his hands inside Kieran’s partially unbuttoned shirt. Traced over the sensitive spots by his ribs as Kieran pumped Arthur to full hardness.

Kieran shimmied back a bit, just enough to work his belt open.

“Kieran—”

Kieran paused, chest heaving, eyes going between Arthur’s face and his stiff prick. There was a perplexed slant to his brow, a question in his eyes.

“Think you’re goin’ a bit fast?”

“Why, you want me to slow down?”

“Just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Kieran snorted a laugh, shoved his pants down to his knees and straddled Arthur’s thighs. Another inch and he could slide down onto Arthur.

“This look like I ain’t alright?”

Arthur settled his hands on Kieran’s bare thighs. Didn’t get a chance to say anything else ‘cause Kieran gripped him and sheathed Arthur’s whole length in a torturously slow motion.

“Been thinking about you all day,” Kieran gasped out, bent down to capture Arthur in a sloppy kiss as Kieran set their rhythm. Leaned back up with a breathy sigh, eyes shut tight, mouth loose and open.

Arthur gripped Kieran’s hips, enthralled, mind gone blank at the sight of Kieran riding him, Kieran’s hands braced behind him on Arthur’s thighs. 

Didn’t take either of them long to reach their peaks. Arthur would’ve been embarrassed, not lasting more than a few minutes, but Kieran collapsed onto his chest, angled his head so he could kiss along Arthur’s neck and jaw. Hadn’t done up either of their pants, was almost uncomfortable, but Arthur was distracted from the cold air on his softening member by Kieran working bruises into his jaw. Kieran fumbled to undo the top buttons of Arthur’s shirt to get at his chest, and Arthur slipped his hands up the back of Kieran’s shirt to tease along his spine.

Forgot about the cold and the last few weeks as Kieran worked him over, left the right kind of bruises along Arthur’s collarbone, his chest, an inch beneath a nipple. Had Arthur writhing beneath him in no time at all. Arthur felt his dick give a half-hearted twitch, an attempt to get hard again.

Kieran felt it, too, pulled back just enough to smile at Arthur.

“You mind. . . ?”

Arthur nipped at Kieran’s chin. Flipped them over before Kieran could try anything. Kieran gasped, damn near giggled when Arthur worked his way down Kieran’s neck this time. Kieran watched as Arthur unbuttoned his shirt; Arthur hesitated, again, right in the middle. Kieran nodded and didn’t look away this time as Arthur exposed his chest. Laid out like this, he was almost flat as a washboard, but it weren’t  _ enough _ , most times.

That train of thought left pretty quick once Arthur kissed every inch of exposed skin. Was determined to suck as many bruises onto Kieran as Kieran had onto him. Worked his way down leisurely as a Sunday stroll, lingered on the sensitive space below Kieran’s ribs, thumbs rubbed into the juncture of Kieran’s hips. Kieran’s breath stuttered through his nose and that was the last thing Arthur needed to be fully hard again.

Kieran propped himself up on an elbow. Caught Arthur’s eyes, held them as Arthur sank to the hilt. Kieran’s eyes fluttered closed and he dropped back with a loud moan of Arthur’s name. Tried to wrap his legs around Arthur’s but couldn’t with their pants still half-on. Arthur curled over Kieran, arms by Kieran’s head, and Kieran curled his fingers into the sleeves of Arthur’s shirt.

Tired as he was, Arthur couldn’t hold back, went harder and faster than any previous time. A steady stream of lewd sounds came from Kieran, something that sounded like Arthur’s name and  _ don’t stop _ and  _ please _ and maybe even  _ love you _ but Arthur couldn’t be sure, blood roaring in his ears, heart hammering in his throat and an impossible heat where their bodies were joined.

Kieran clenched around him with a shout and Arthur followed a second later, just as loud. Tried to keep himself above Kieran on shaking arms but Kieran yanked him down onto his chest, peppered Arthur’s face with kisses, held Arthur’s face between both his hands and latched onto his mouth. Arthur pulled away first, breathless, forehead pressed to Kieran’s. They shared a few desperate breaths before Arthur pulled back to tuck himself into his pants and button up the rest of Kieran’s clothes. Kieran whined at the loss of contact.

Arthur jerked his quilt out of the pile it had fallen into at the edge of the bedroll, settled it over the both of them. Kieran buried into Arthur’s chest, hands beneath Arthur’s shirt, mumbled something Arthur didn’t think he’d heard proper.

_ Love you too _ , Arthur thought as he dropped a kiss to the crown of Kieran’s head. 

\+ + - + +

The horse bucked and Arthur went flying into the snow. When he didn’t move, panic set in and Kieran fought his way over, shouting his name so loud it echoed off the mountains.

Kieran slid to a stop, dropped into the snow next to Arthur’s unmoving form. Face down, looked like maybe he weren’t breathing.

“Arthur! Are you alright?” Kieran reached forward, heart jammed in his throat.

And was pulled down into the snow next to Arthur. Kieran struggled, laughing. Arthur rolled them so he was on his back, Kieran straddling his hips.

“That didn’t go so well.” His hands came up to Kieran’s waist, stayed there, stared at Kieran like he were the prized horse.

Kieran looked away, blushing. “Guess you’re fine, then.”

“She’s small, didn’t have far to fall. You see where she got to?”

Kieran slid off Arthur, helped get him back on his feet. “Snow’s deep, just follow the tracks.”

They did, for about an hour, before they disappeared into a wild churn of snow.

“You wanna keep looking for her?” Kieran hoped the answer was no, hoped Arthur would suggest going back to the cabin in the trees and just living out the rest of their lives there.

Arthur straightened from where he was crouched over the snow. Groaned as he stretched his back. Kieran heard a series of loud pops.

“Na, it’s gettin’ late and I don’t wanna camp in the snow again if we don’t have to.” Arthur whistled for the horses and they waited for them to trudge over. The shire had no problem, his belly clear of it, but Branwen struggled and was not quiet about her displeasure. Kieran gave her as many treats as he could spare as they made their way out of the mountains.

  
  


Just as he had hoped, Arthur steered them towards the cabin. Almost invisible in the final hour of sunset, the forest a gloomy purple around them.

“Said we’d be back in a  _ few _ days,” Arthur said to him with a wink. Something fluttered around Kieran’s ribcage. Maybe he could convince Arthur to just stay out here forever.

But Kieran knew how impractical that was, knew he couldn’t even live the fantasy for five minutes.

Couldn’t live in the fantasy for  _ one  _ minute—the shire stopped short, snorting and tossing his head. Branwen danced to the side. Kieran tried to calm her, find out what had gotten them both spooked.

Before he could figure it out, Arthur’d drawn his rifle and pointed it into the woods.

“Get back!”

Kieran couldn’t see anything past the shire, who’d turned sideways trying to escape the threat, but he heard the gravelly roar a second later.

_ Grizzly _ .

The shire half-reared but Arthur dug his heels in. Branwen moved in a tight circle, tossed her head. 

The crack of a single shot echoed through the darkening forest. The shire leapt forward and Arthur almost lost his grip. Barely held onto his gun as the big horse crashed through the trees. Kieran didn’t need to give Branwen much encouragement to follow. Just tried to keep Arthur in his sight and had no idea where they were going.

They burst through the trees, crashed over the stream. Arthur got the shire under control on the other side of the meadow where the pine trees were young and sparse. Kieran hopped off Branwen, stroked her face and cooed about how brave and strong she was. Heard Arthur trying to calm the shire, swearing more than anything else.

Branwen had settled and Kieran felt he could leave her, approached Arthur from the side so he’d see him. The shire stamped his front hooves before lowering his head to Arthur’s hand where it held a pile of sugar cubes and swept them from Arthur’s hand. 

“You okay, Arthur?”

Arthur sighed, pat the shire’s neck, tucked the reins over the saddlehorn. “Yeah, ‘m fine. You?”

Kieran pulled Arthur into a hug, tucked his head under Arthur’s chin. Felt Arthur’s chest shudder beneath his cheek. “All good.”

Arthur released him with a quick kiss to the cheek. “Looks like we’re camping again.”

“I don’t mind,” Kieran said with a sly wink before going back to Branwen.

They rode side by side along the trail, silent. Kieran was waiting for Arthur to pick a spot to camp for the night, wondered if it wouldn’t be better to try for Strawberry instead.

“Still need to find you a horse.”

Arthur hummed, turned off the path. Not far, but the clearing was hidden from the road by abundant bushes. Thought he saw some movement where the trees grew dense together, brushed it off when no bear came barrelling out. Dismounted and got a fire started, set up the tent while Kieran took care of the horses. Arthur’d shot a rabbit on their way out of the mountains and he skinned and cooked that in the time it took for Kieran to remove all their tack and give the horses their first thorough brushing in a few days.

Kieran dropped onto the ground next to Arthur, legs crossed, hunched over his lap.

“You cold?”

Kieran shrugged. “Just tired.”

Arthur didn’t quite believe him; Kieran had that look like he wanted to say something he knew Arthur didn’t want to hear. 

Arthur decided they’d had enough trouble for one day and left it. Just handed Kieran his half of the rabbit and they ate in silence.

“Any idea where you’re gonna get a horse?” Kieran asked once they’d finished their food, bones tossed into the fire.

“Can see what the stables in Strawberry have.”

“Better come back with something or I’m gonna get yelled at.” Kieran tried to laugh it off, but he was real nervous—Arthur’d told Dutch he was bringing Kieran to help him pick a horse, and if Kieran failed something simple as that. . . he didn’t want to know what Dutch might do to him. Might be the final tally, the last failure Dutch would tolerate—

Kieran jerked when Arthur’s hand settled on his knee.

“I won’t let anyone hassle you. And I’ll find a horse. Don’t think I trust that one much anymore,” he pointed a thumb over his shoulder at the shire, “and he ain’t the fastest thing out there.”

“I got some ideas, if it’s speed you’re after.”

They spent some time discussing horses, Arthur doing more listening than anything else as Kieran’s passion for the subject pushed through. Arthur thought he knew a lot about horses, but Kieran  _ really _ knew horses. Should be running his own stables somewhere, knowing what he did, not trapped in a gang of criminals, fearing for his life.

_ I’ll build a stable for you, someday _ .

Arthur blinked at the sudden thought. Kieran had stopped talking, gave him an odd look.

“I’m sorry, I was rambling again, wasn’t I?”

Arthur cupped the side of Kieran’s face, brushed a thumb over his cheek. Kieran leaned into the touch, closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

“I like it.”

“Oh?” Kieran opened his eyes in time to see Arthur coming in for a kiss. It didn’t last and Kieran made a disappointed noise that had Arthur chuckling.

“Better get some sleep.” Arthur pat Kieran’s thigh, pointed him towards the tent and said he’d be there in a minute.

Kieran hugged the quilt around him, watched Arthur bank the fire through the slim opening of the tent. Sleep dragged at him in a way it hadn’t in the last few days, wore out by running from a goddamn  _ bear _ . Kieran wanted to take advantage of every second they had alone together, but he could hardly keep his eyes open.

Sighed into Arthur’s embrace when he climbed under the blanket and settled behind Kieran. Weren’t nearly as cold as it had been in the Grizzlies, but Arthur’s weight at his back and his heat seeping into Kieran was a comfort all the same. Arthur nuzzled at Kieran’s neck, placed a brief kiss there.

Kieran was almost asleep when Arthur spoke close to his ear.

“What’s  _ really _ bothering you, Kieran?”

Kieran shifted so he could look at Arthur. Near impossible to see his face in the dark, the moon a pale crescent hidden behind the pine boughs.

“Why do we have to go back? We could just leave—we could live in that cabin, the hunting around here’s decent, ain’t it? Strawberry ain’t far, either. . . I’m sorry, I-I know it’s dumb, I don’t know why I even said it. . . .” Kieran scooted from under the blanket, back pressed to the tent wall, knees pulled up to his chest. Didn’t want to look at Arthur even though he couldn’t make out his expression.

Arthur got himself onto an elbow. “Kieran—”

“Why you so eager to die for a man who don’t even care about you? He left you, Arthur! I never heard him say a single word about looking for you, plenty a people asked though! Charles was about ready to go out himself when you came back.”

Arthur sighed, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Kieran knew Arthur wasn’t mad at him, but that broken part deep inside told him to  _ run _ , get away before anything bad could happen.

And dammit, Kieran listened to it, and he scrambled out of the tent before Arthur could stop him.

Arthur didn’t try to stop him, lost in his own thoughts. Kieran was right, Arthur had known a while ago he was right. Had been in some mighty strong denial until he woke up, upside down in some nasty cellar being worked over by Colm. Some part of Arthur had convinced himself he could stay with the gang and still have Kieran, even though that would never work, wouldn’t work even if Kieran  _ hadn’t _ been an O’Driscoll.

Arthur did not think his life a miserable one. Sure, he lived rough and things were never easy, but he’d grown to accept that. Had expected to die before he was twenty, anyhow, and considered every year after that nothing short of a miracle. Lived without any kinda plans—that’s what Dutch did, anyways, the planning. Arthur just followed instructions and learned to appreciate the times he weren’t being shot at.

_ The hell kinda life is that? _

Arthur growled, tossed the blanket aside and stepped from the tent. No sign of Kieran in the clearing, but Branwen was still tied near the shire, so he couldn’t have gone far. Planned to come back, which gave Arthur the smallest bit of hope.

Was about to set off to find Kieran before he could get himself lost, but movement from the trees caught Arthur’s attention. Reached for his pistol, had forgotten he’d been about to  _ sleep _ so of course all his guns were in the damn tent.

Weren’t much light, but Arthur’s eyes adjusted and that he could make out the shape of a horse as it passed through a moonbeam. Arthur tracked it without moving; it meandered closer, head to the ground, sniffing. Arthur held his breath as it pushed through some bushes and snuffled its way closer to the cold fire. 

Hard to tell much about it in the low light, but Arthur thought he’d seen this kinda horse around here before. Thick knees, strong legs, always galloped off before he could get a good look at ‘em. Couldn’t recall the breed name, but that didn’t much matter when the horse stopped less than ten feet from him, looked up and seemed to find Arthur’s eyes instantly despite the darkness.

Arthur reached out a hand before he knew what he was doing. The horse approached, cautious, craned its neck out to sniff at him from as far away as it could. 

Didn’t seem offended by what it smelled, took another step closer. Arthur eased a hand into his satchel for a sugar cube. Held it out as he moved to the horse’s side, laid his other hand on its back. It snorted but the sugar cube was sufficient distraction. He swung up and hurried to get a length of rope around its neck as it tried to buck him with a high whinny.

“Woah there, easy now!”

The horse sprang around the clearing, almost knocked over the tent. Arthur squeezed its sides, dug his heels in. The horse kicked out its hind legs one last time before settling, trotting a tight circle and tossing its head. Arthur stroked along its neck, cooed to it, apologized, but it settled awful fast. 

Had a minute to question what the hell kinda dumb luck just dropped a perfectly good horse into the middle of his camp when a wolf howled, too close. Kicked the horse towards the sound. Another howl a second later followed by what could only be Kieran shouting.

Arthur turned the horse, spotted white fur. The horse snorted beneath him but didn’t shy as the predator came into view. Arthur didn’t have much time to think, horrible images of Kieran mauled flashing across his mind—

Arthur launched himself at the wolf. 

Surprised it and it didn’t try to attack him immediately and they rolled. Kieran shouted but Arthur had to focus on keeping the wolf’s jaws away from his face.

Didn’t recall much of the fight. Hard to keep things straight when you were wrestling a wolf, but eventually it was dead and Arthur was alive and that was all that really mattered.

“Arthur! Can you hear me? You alright?”

Arthur blinked up at Kieran, then back at the wolf. Hard to hear much over his pounding heart and heavy breathing. “Think so.” He stepped back from the wolf, staggered to lean against the nearest tree. 

Kieran hovered close to him, concern warring with anger. Arthur didn’t look too hurt and Kieran was still upset and didn’t want to run to him right away.

“Why’d you run off?”

“I—,” Kieran sighed, threw his hands in the air, “I don’t know.”

“I didn’t say you were wrong.”

“Then why? Why we bothering to go back?”

Arthur paused for a long, long drawn-out moment. Blood dripped from his hand onto the pine needle carpet in fat drops.

“I can’t just abandon everyone else. They’re my family.”

_ Ain’t I family enough? _

Kieran tore a strip from his nice new shirt, grabbed Arthur’s hand in both his own and started to wrap it. Arthur finally seemed to realize he’d more or less fought a wolf with his bare hands—Kieran did his best to slow the fall. The horse snorted near them, skittered around the cooling wolf carcass.

“You can’t save everyone all the time, Arthur.”

“I can try.”

“And what, get yourself killed? Damn near managed to do that just tryna save  _ one _ person.”

Arthur snorted, not quite a laugh. Met Kieran’s eyes. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m not the one out here punching wolves.”

“Weren’t much of a punch. Least I got a nice horse.”

“What? Where the hell’d you get a horse? It’s the middle of the night!”

Arthur shrugged one shoulder, nodded at the horse past Kieran. Kieran followed his gaze, couldn’t tell much but the horse had a dark coat and thick legs. Would get a better look in the morning.

“It wandered into camp.”

Kieran stared at Arthur, dumbfounded. “It just wandered into camp, and you tamed it? Weren’t even gone that long,” Kieran muttered the last part to himself, pulled Arthur’s arm over his shoulders. “You hurt anywhere else?”

“Don’t think so.”

“Let’s go then.”

\+ + - + +

The blue roan did not care for the shire. Loved Branwen like they were old friends, of course. Nipped at the shire anytime he got within her reach. Kieran helped Arthur transfer the saddle to the new horse, tied a lead between the shire and Branwen. Arthur rode one-handed, his right arm in a sling. Was going to get a mighty lecture when he came back, he was sure. Looked worse than it was, though, on account of the bruising. Hand probably weren’t even broken. 

They’d gotten a late start, Kieran unable to rouse Arthur before noon, and they stopped to rent a room in Strawberry. Arthur bought Kieran a bath. Kieran didn’t want to admit he’d clean forgotten the last time he’d had a chance to soak in hot water. All his washing was done with a rag and a bucket or in the middle of a river.

Almost didn’t want the bath, liked that he smelled of Arthur and woodsmoke and all the things they had gotten up to over the last few days. But then he caught sight of the dried blood smeared up his forearm and the desire vanished.

Kieran tried not to look at himself as he washed. Had to pretend he was helping some sick woman too frail to clean herself. It was easier to distance himself from the soft places he despised if he was just cleaning them for someone else. Tried to focus on the parts he  _ did _ like, the parts that felt right. The dark hair on his legs, under his arms. The fine hairs on his face he could fool himself into seeing as a freshly-shaved beard, just give it a few more days and it’d grow in thick and proper. His hands were rough and scarred and decidedly un-ladylike so he focused on those as the water darkened and cooled. He stepped out before it got to freezing and could remind him too much of being dunked in a creek to get blood off his thighs.

There was a knock on the door and Kieran froze half out of the tub.

“It’s Arthur. Got some clothes for you.”

Right, he’d torn up his shirt. His brand new shirt Arthur had spent good money on.

Kieran snatched the massive fluffy towel from the heating rack and draped it over his shoulders like a blanket. Covered all the important bits.

“It’s open.”

Arthur slipped in, not opening the door more than he needed to. Put a neatly wrapped brown paper package down on the chair with Kieran’s mostly-not-ruined pants.

“Got you the same shirt.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Kieran said automatically, shivering and pulling the towel tighter around him. Was a lot colder outside the water.

“Wanted to. Sure you’re alright?”

“Could ask you that.” Kieran nodded at Arthur’s hand, freshly bandaged.

“Doc said it’s fine, only needed a few stitches. Back’s bruised something fierce, though.” Arthur tugged at the string one-handed, shook the shirt loose of the packaging. Something had been folded inside it, flopped onto the floor. “Got you a union suit too. You really been running around this whole time with no under things?”

Kieran took the union suit and slipped it on in a single motion. Was big, loose in the right places just how he liked all his clothes to be. “Weren’t ever really an issue.”

“Even greasy Johnny Marston’s got under things.” Arthur held the shirt up while Kieran shimmied into his pants. Had managed to tear them in both knees and Arthur wished he’d noticed sooner, would’ve thrown in some jeans with the rest of the order. 

Kieran finished dressing, stepped into Arthur’s space to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Thank you.” 

Arthur’s arm found its home around Kieran’s waist. “Thanks for helping me find a new horse.”

“More like she found you, don’t know how much help  _ I _ was.” Kieran chuckled, pushed back from Arthur. Grabbed his boots rather than put them on since their room was next door. “Let’s go get our money’s worth outta that bed.”

  
  
Kieran kept his shirt on as he rode Arthur. Wanted it to smell like the two of them, wanted to be able to bury his nose in the collar and recall these past days fresh as anything. Arthur had his good hand on Kieran’s hip, not doing much and letting Kieran set the pace. Arthur loved watching Kieran lose himself, treasured the moment he saw Kieran forget everything that had happened and enjoy the present. Didn’t even care if he got off, really, got more satisfaction from Kieran gone boneless and sated. 

Not that there was a lack of mutual pleasure. Far from it. Arthur just didn’t want Kieran to worry about how Arthur felt through the whole thing. 

Arthur moved his hand to splay over Kieran’s abdomen, thumb over his clit. Each flick made Kieran clench around Arthur, drawing deep groans from the both of them. Kieran planted his hands on Arthur’s chest and ground down, Arthur snapping up to meet him and it wasn’t long before they were both crying out and collapsing into a heap. They’d kicked all the blankets and pillows from the bed; Arthur groped around blindly trying to find anything to toss over them.

Yanked the first thing his hand came into contact with, which happened to be the heavenly feather duvet. It settled over them like fog through the trees. A content sigh escaped Kieran and he nuzzled into Arthur’s neck. Arthur stroked through Kieran’s hair, pressing the occasional kiss to whatever part of him he could reach, until Kieran fell into a deep sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am baby and writing smut is so hard for me but I DID IT, I did the thing! I hope it wasn't terrible.


End file.
